Through Her Eyes
by R-I-C-A-R-D
Summary: The Illusive Man assigned Kelly Chambers to the SR-2 Normandy to monitor the crew...and Shepard. This is her story, through her eyes.
1. Before the Beginning

**Author's Notes:** It's been a while since I've posted anything on this site. Truth is, I've been playing around with various ideas but felt none of them were good enough to post. Then I had an idea to 'do' a Mass Effect 2 inspired fic written from Kelly Chambers' point of view. You know Kelly, bright, outgoing and usually relegated to token airhead status most of the time. I wanted to flesh her out some and see what I could do with her. So, here it is. As always, reviews are welcome.

**1. Before the Beginning**

If asked where I was the day the Citadel Council conferred the rank of Spectre upon one of our own, I'll be able to tell them, _I was right there, in the Council chambers._

I stood among a crowd drawn from all the races in Council Space - hip to hip with asari and salarians, side by side with turians and volus. A pair of hanar floated a few feet away, jellyfish-like bodies flickering with bioluminescence as they silently communicated with one another.

We stood in one of the tiers encicling the large, echoey space, looking down at the three Council members and those summoned before them - a turian in the blue armour of C-Sec, a tall, intense-looking man with dark hair and eyes, a female marine in white armour, a man in the uniform of an Alliance Navy officer - the famed Captain David Anderson and finally, the person who would go on to make such an impact on the galactic landscape, Commander Shepard of the SSV _Normandy_.

The asari Councillor spoke, her words carried to us via concealed speakers, "Commander Shepard, step forward."

Shepard did so, a single step that seemed to say, _Here we are, worthy of your respect at last._ The Commander carried herself well, given the almost-palpable tension in the room, back straight, head high, chin thrust slightly forward, issuing a silent challenge.

Beside me, a turian muttered to his companion, "This is a travesty. Humans are too brash and impulsive to be trusted with such an honour."

A volus wheezed out a laugh through his respirator, "Compared to Saren, how bad can she be?"

I did my best to ignore the aliens and instead concentrated on the asari. "You are the first human," I detected a slight accent on the word, "Spectre, Commander. Congratulations."

I heard somebody begin a round of applause and wasn't aware it was me until I glanced down to see my hands clapping together so hard, the palms of my hands stung. I felt a large, impossibly happy smile form on my lips as, beside me, an asari joined the ovation, then a salarian.

I was witness to a singular moment in the history of our people. I am part of an organisation charged with advancing the interests of humanity throughout the galaxy. No matter the cost. Some call us terrorists. We call ourselves 'Cerberus.'

My name is Kelly Chambers.

This is my story.


	2. Denial, Anger, Acceptance

**2. Denial, Anger, Acceptance**

As an organisation with a strong interest in protecting humanity and advancing its causes, Shepard's campaign against Saren and the geth was closely monitored by Cerberus. The head of the organisation, the so-called Illusive Man, utilised his assets within the Alliance government and military to smooth over any impediments Shepard may have encountered - problems sourcing supplies and materiel for example.

Any time a requistion order went out from the _Normandy,_ be it for fresh fruit and vegetables or a new medium-class Predator-series harsuit for Shepard herself, the order was expedited as rapidly as possible.

Sources within the Alliance military command structure kept the Illusive Man informed of Shepard's movements across the galaxy - Feros, Noveria, Vermire and, as intel regarding certain discoveries filtered through to him, the Illusive Man ordered covert teams purporting to be clean up and reconstruction crews to those worlds to secure anything of value to Cerberus.

She didn't know it, but Shepard was proving to be an immense asset for Cerberus. Until she uncovered the details of Admiral Kohoku's missing recon team.

The exact details are well beyond my security clearance, but it's enough to say Shepard and her team - now including an asari, krogan mercenary and quarian - cut a swathe through several key research compounds with a brutal efficiency that impressed and incensed the Illusive Man in equal measure. "She would make a powerful ally for our cause," he said. Even as clean-up crews were salvaging what they could from the research sites, plans were formulated to bring Shepard into the fold.

Events, however, spiralled out of even the Illusive Man's grasp. Led by the _Normandy_, the Citadel fleet destroyed the Reaper known as Sovereign and preserved the Council though not before the titanic alien construct and the geth fleet decimated the Council forces.

Shepard and her team defeated Saren and in the aftermath, humanity was offered a place on the Citadel Council. Amid the rejoicing of a relieved galaxy, the politicians, unwilling to face the reality of an armada of sentient warships waiting in darkspace, declared Sovereign a geth vessel used by Saren in a push for galactic domination, despite Shepard's protests to the contrary.

I couldn't help but laugh when the straight-faced salarian news anchor actually used the term 'galactic domination.'

"Ain't that just typical?" Jacob Taylor, a recent Cerberus recruit muttered. "What's the bet the Council'll ship Shepard off to the far reaches of space rather than have her hanging around, asking uncomfortable questions?"

Jacob's cynicism aside, he turned out to be right. Well-placed sources within the Alliance chain of command relayed details of the _Nomandy's_ reassignment even before her own crew were made aware of it. With barely a month gone since humanity's triumph, Shepard and her crew were reassigned to the lawless Terminus Systems - about as far as it's possible to go and still remain inside the galaxy - tasked with locating and neutralising remaining geth resistance.

The last anybody heard from the _Normandy_ were a series of frantic distress calls originating deep within the Terminus:

_"Mayday! Mayday! This is the SSV Normandy! We are under attack by unknown forces..."_

Unsurprisingly, the term 'unknown forces' piqued the Illusive Man's interest. Was it an as-yet unseen alien race? Were they a threat to humanity? Had the geth regrouped faster than we had anticipated? We didn't know. All we knew - all _anybody_ knew was this: The SSV _Normandy_ was lost and with her, humanity's hope and saviour.

The galaxy as a whole was in shock and suddenly, the same Council who had so stymied Shepard's campaign against Saren, forcing her to go as far as hijacking her own ship after it was locked down were now singing her praises and extolling her virtues.

I felt physically sick with rage to the point that I strapped on a pair of boxing gloves and, having never boxed before in my life, proceeded to pummel the heavy bag into submission, breaking several knuckles and exhausting my anger in the process. Afterwards I felt empty, hollowed out.

As a psychologist, I recognised the stages of grief: denial, anger, acceptance and went through all of them. In some cases, more than once. Normally, I'm a very happy person. People call me 'perky' and use the term as an insult. In the aftermath of Shepard's death, I was anything but perky. I caught myself scowling at people I normally liked spending time with and using the kind of language that would make a Navy veteran blush. I never knew Shepard before her death yet I felt a kinship with her though we had nothing in common.

Shepard endured the kind of childhood people like to label 'dysfunctional' - orphaned at a young age and forced to fend for herself on the streets of Earth, in the shadows of a shining metropolis. It's the sort of childhood a lesser person might use as justification for all the wrongs they deal others in life - it isn't my fault, I don't know any better. Shepard chose to rise above her beginnings and make something of herself, enlisting in the Alliance military at the age of eighteen and leaving behind a past rife with gangs, drugs and violence.

Leading a force of marines to the Alliance colony on Akuze, Shepard's team was annililated by thresher maws. Fifty men and women died on that world and only Shepard made it back to the the landing zone for retrieval. Such an experience might have broken another yet Shepard found the will to carry on. Or she was just supremely skilled at telling the psychs what they wanted to hear when they evaluated her mental state prior to reactivating her.

Either way, the young officer was accepted into the Alliance special forces training program, surviving the high attrition rate among candidates and earning the right to wear the N emblem on her armour, rising through the tiers of the black ops community until she attained the rank of N7 - a designation viewed by common soldiers with both reverence and fear.

For Shepard to perish aboard her ship, unable to even strike back at her attackers seemed to me like the most grievous insult fate could throw at her. But Shepard's path didn't end there, though her journey through life was placed on hold for two years as though a maliciously playful deity had pressed 'pause' on a vid-player.

Some herald the discovery of penicilin as the great leap forward in human medicine. Shepard needed a great deal more than penicilin if Cerberus were to undo the damage wrought upon her as she was blown out her exploding ship.

Again, due to the high-level security clearances required, my understanding of what it took to resurrect Shepard is limited at best. All I know is that some of humanity's greatest medical and scientific minds worked for over two years and cost Cerberus over four billion credits - not counting the cost of secretly constructing the SR-2 _Normandy._

Integrating elements of turian ship-design philosophy such as placing the commanding officer aft of the crew caused some controversy when the original ship was commissioned.

Rear Admiral Mikhailovich of the Alliance Fifth Fleet was on record declaring the _Normandy_ an "Expensive co-developed boondoggle to make nice to the turians!" and adding, "It's a gimmick...useless in a stand-up fight." Sadly, he was proven correct when the original ship was ambushed and destroyed though given the staggering level of firepower unleashed by the alien vessel, even a dreadnought-class ship would not have survived for long.

That was then, however. Shepard awoke within Cerberus' Lazarus Project facility - though it wasn't the controlled gradual return to consciousness the project lead, Miranda Lawson would have preferred. For reasons best known to himself, the chief medical officer on the team, Wilson, attempted to sabotage the project and subverted the station's mech security force, killing most everybody in the process. Sadly, Miranda killed WIlson before escaping the station with Operative Taylor and Shepard. I would have loved to have interviewed Wilson and gotten a handle on his mental and emotional state, find out why he'd done it.

Not to fault Miranda's judgement at the time, but I still find myself wishing she'd taken Wilson alive. Still, I have enough to occupy myself already. My 'official' brief from the Illusive Man is to provide counselling to any member of the crew who requires it during this operation.

Unofficially, I'm here to quietly evaluate Shepard's mental and emotional state and alert the Illusive Man should her actions prove detrimental to Cerberus' aims and objectives.

So far, at least, Shepard's behaviour seems completely normal - though I have only her previous psych evals to go on. Shepard _does_ seem to have taken a perverse interest in needling her XO. From the tightening of muscles around her jaw and the occasional twitch of her right eye, Miranda may be taking Shepard a little too seriously.

"You seem to enjoy getting under her skin, Commander," I observed from my station in the CIC. Shepard stood overlooking the holographic galaxy map. Presently, we were in the Omega system, making a hard burn for the hollowed out asteroid that is the centre for organised and disorganised crime in the Terminus.

From what I've read, Omega is like the Citadel - only with the thin veneer of civility stripped away to bare the ugliness and desperation beneath. The Illusive Man had provided Shepard with a number of leads on potential allies to recruit for the mission. Conveniently, three of them - a salarian geneticist, a mercenary leader known only as Archangel and gun-for-hire Zaeed Massani were all presently on Omega.

Shepard's head turned towards me, lines of scarring in her face glowing dimly and smiled. Something about that smile gave me goosebumps. "She's cute when she's angry," Shepard said with a smirk. "Also, have you noticed the way that vein in her forehead pulses when she's wound up?"

I nodded and Shepard went on, "I'm waiting to see whether something in her brain's going to explode."

I managed to suppress a laugh, barely.

Turning back to the map, Shepard asked, "What do you think we should do first? Go after this salarian or Archangel...cool name by the way."

"Uh," I replied in a brilliant display of verbosity, "You're asking _me?"_ Was Shepard attempting to include me in her work or just yanking my chain?

Shepard looked back at me, right eyebrow raised. "Any reason I shouldn't, Ms Chambers? I figure you're here for a reason and not just to provide a pretty distraction for the crew."

I gulped, feeling my face redden. "Well, the mission debriefing from Freedom's Progress mentioned 'seeker swarms' paralyzing the colonists so the Collectors could haul them away." I paused and Shepard nodded.

_She thinks I'm pretty?_ I shook my head and refocused myself, "The Illusive Man believes this Dr Solus may be able to counteract the seekers. So we'd probably want to have him on board and working on that at the earliest opportunity...before we run into the Collectors. Ma'am," I added.

Shepard nodded. "Miranda said much the same thing. Thanks for your input, Ms Chambers."

"Thank you, Commander. And please, call me Kelly. Ms Chambers is my mother."

"OK then, Kelly," she answered before saying my name again, drawing it out as though she were rolling it around in her mouth to see how it felt, "Kelllllyyy."

Shepard turned back to the map once more, seeming to stare through the display. I watched her from the corner of my eye and made a brief note of our conversation in her file. Her behaviour so far seemed 'normal' enough, but normal is an extremely subjective description.

The reports from Freedom's Progress indicate Shepard operated with exemplary levels of skill and worked as well as could be expected with an unfamiliar squad but this 'down time' version of Shepard seemed to be an almost different person from Shepard in combat.

Shepard seemed to come back to herself and placed a hand to the commlink in her ear. "Joker?"

From my position a few feet from Shepard, the helmsman's replay was faint but audible, "Commander?"

I've spent some time attempting to work with Flight Lieutenant Jeff Moreau, to give him his formal title but he's been quite adept at evading my questions about his past history with the Alliance and relationship with Shepard. Joker is a walking personification of self-deprecating humour. That is, when his caustic wit isn't directed at others, as is usually the case.

"What's our ETA at Omega?" Shepard enquired, shifting her weight from hip to hip. I couldn't help but notice how the Cerberus-issue uniform hugged her figure then forced myself to stop noticing.

_Don't even go there, Kelly_, I warned myself. _Remember how things turned out with that asari?_ I groaned inwardly at the thought. Weeks of increasingly heated flirting and too much alcohol on my part resulted in a night of the best sex I'd ever had...said sex being recorded and the resulting footage uploaded to an amateur extranet porn site. Not even Cerberus' cadre of hackers could stop the vid once it was released.

That wasn't to say I believed Shepard capable of such a betrayal but it _did_ serve as an object lesson in not blindly indulging one's impulses. That and looking out for hidden cameras.

"Forty-five minutes, Commander," Joker replied. "You might want to go up to your fancy cabin and touch up your eyeliner before we dock. Gotta make a good impression on the criminal element. Just sayin' is all."

Shepard's lips curled upwards in a smirk. "Roger that, Joker. Try not to scratch the paint-job when you dock. Out." Shepard keyed the shipwide intercomm. "Miranda and Jacob? Please suit up and report to the airlock in fifteen."

I thought the please was a nice touch.


	3. Alpha and Omega

**3. Alpha and Omega**

An almost palpable hum seemed to flow through the crew as Joker expertly guided the _Normandy_ to a docking collar and powered down the engines. We were here and it felt as though the mission was officially 'on.'

Unconsciously, my spine stiffened as Shepard, Miranda and Jacob assembled at the airlock. Though it was Cerberus-issue, Shepard's black and grey hardsuit bore the N7 logo on the upper right breast. By comparison, the Cerberus uniforms Jacob and Miranda wore seemed grossly inadequate though I knew both operatives carried kinetic barrier generators on their belts and, as trained biotics, both were capable of creating protective barriers.

As the airlock cycled open and Jacob and Miranda stepped inside, I caught Shepard's gaze from across the room, mouthed 'good luck.' She nodded and gave me a jaunty salute.

Less than an hour had elapsed before Shepard returned, now with a third squadmate. I recognised the tall, muscular man from the dossiers: Zaeed Massani. The file didn't specify his age though given the thick grey hair and weathered-looking skin, I placed the man in his early to mid fifties though it was evident even after an initial glance that he hadn't let age dull his edge. Besides the muscles and small arsenal of weapons he carried, Zaeed bore the look of a man who'd seen it all and done most of it, likely enjoying it as well.

As Shepard led the man along the length of the CIC, I overheard him ask, "Where can I put my gear?"

"You can bunk in the crew quarters-" Shepard began but Zaeed cut her off, shaking his head.

"No way," he said firmly, his British accent growing more pronounced, "I won't have these Cerberus pukes laying their hands on my gear."

I cast my gaze over his gear - to my admittedly untrained eye, the weapons appeared to be in good condition but his body armour was scarred, scuffed and battered, much like its owner.

Shepard merely nodded. "Yeah, I get that. I've seen what happens when they lay their hands on things." The commander swept a hand down the front of her hardsuit as though saying_ Here I am_. Shepard favoured me with a crooked smile and a wink. "That and thorian creepers."

"Got any recommendations, Kel?" Shepard asked me and I felt myself glow at the way she shortened my name. It was a small thing, really but it was the sort of thing close friends might do. I took it as a sign that Shepard was beginning to feel settled.

I swallowed, hard and said the first thing that came to mind, like I was on a couch undergoing word association. "The starboard cargo hold on the engineering deck." Even as I said it, I knew it was the right decision and went on, confidence bolstered. "There's room for a cot and plenty of space for all of Mister Massani's gear."

Zaeed snorted. "Mister Massani. Heh, I like that."

Shepard nodded. "Sounds good. Can you escort Zaeed to his quarters? I should get back out there before Lawson wears a groove in the deck."

I looked over to where Miranda was pacing back and forth along one side of the central map display, heels rapping out sharply with each step. Jacob merely leaned against the bulkhead and watched her. The CIC crew performed their duties with noticeably stiffer postures, occasionally glancing over their shoulders at Miranda as she continued to pace.

That she so obviously wielded such authority and fear saddened me a little; I feared Miranda would find it difficult to form lasting relationships among the crew unless she allowed herself to relax around them and put them at ease.

Shepard gathered her team and headed out once more, leaving me in the company of Zaeed. "If you'll follow me, I'll show you around the ship." Zaeed shrugged and nodded mutely. I led him on a quick tour around the ship, pointing out the armory, mess hall and medbay. I figured a man in his line of work would be most in need of those three areas of the ship.

We lingered for nearly ten minutes in the armory, as he picked up various firearms and inspected them before replacing them exactly as he found them. I nodded; Jacob would be pleased. In the mess hall, Zaeed paused to peruse the offerings available from the food dispenser and frowned mightily.

"What's _this_ crap?" he growled, jabbing a thick forefinger at the display.

"It's _not_ crap!" Mess Sergeant Gardner shot back, arms folded over his chest. His balding scalp gleamed slightly beneath the lighting panels in the ceiling.

Before I could say anything, Hadley piped up from where he was shovellling processed food into his mouth, "No, no, it really _is_ crap."

Gardner snorted, "This from the man who never seems to leave the mess hall."

I decided it was best to gently steer Zaeed away from the immediate vicinity before an incident erupted between _Normandy's_ cook and...I'm not even sure what Hadley's role is.

When we arrived at the cargo hold, the mercenary gave the area a brief glance and grunted, "It'll do." I nodded and took my leave, returning to the CIC.

When Shepard next returned, accompanied this time by an animated salarian, the gloss was gone from her hardsuit. In its place were a variety of scuff marks, impacts from mass accelerator fire and what appeared to be tooth and claw marks.

As Shepard spoke in low tones to the salarian, Mordin Solus, I edged closer, not to eavesdrop but to get a better look at Shepard's battle damage. Shepard and Mordin finished speaking and the Commander led the scientist to the _Normandy's_ lab, located just off the CIC. When she returned, Shepard demonstrated how acutely aware she was of her surroundings.

"I noticed you checking me out just before," she said, her blunt delivery softened by the hint of a smile. "See anything you like?"

"No!" I gasped. "I mean...I saw the damage to your suit. Are those claw marks?" I pointed out the gouges on her shinguards.

Shepard glanced down and back up at me. "Oh. Those." She shrugged. "Varren."

"Ohhhkay," I replied doubtfully.

"Packs of vorcha were spreading a virus through Omega, many deaths. Mordin formulated a cure and needed us to introduce it into the air circulators. Vorcha use the varren as attack dogs. One got in close and snapped off a tooth in my leg."

My eyes widened, "You're taking that very calmly."

Shepard shrugged. "I got bit by a varren, Chambers." Her mouth twisted in a wry smile, "It's not like I was spaced." Somewhat disturbingly, Shepard tilted her head back and laughed, drawing curious glances from the crew. After a few seconds, she straightened and looked at me, face flushed. Some of my concern must have shown in my face; Shepard smiled again, but not her usual wry smirk. "It's either laugh, cry or go crazy, Kel," she said quietly. "And I hate crying."

I didn't know how to reply to that, and an awkward silence spun out between us. I shuffled my feet on the deck, the mild squeak of boot-sole on metal audible over the hum of the ship drive. Finally, I remembered my psychology degree. "If you ever need to talk to me, about anything, I'm always here, Commander," I managed to get out.

Shepard gave me another of those crooked smiles I was growing to love. "I might just do that, Chambers. We can braid each other's hair and talk about boys."

The commander took her leave of the CIC then, turning towards the elevator. "If the ship blows up, I'll be in my cabin."

The elevator doors slid shut, closing Shepard off from view. I checked the time on my console, saw it was nearing twelve hundred hours, ship-time and decided to check in on Mordin before settling down for lunch.

Walking the short distance to the science lab, I attempted to view things from Mordin's perspective - he was on an unfamiliar vessel, surrounded by 'aliens' working for an organisation with known xenophobic tendencies, at least according to the Council.

Were I in that situation, I'd feel uneasy at the very least. I wanted to make sure he was comfortable because it was extremely unlikely Miranda would bother herself with such concerns and Jacob tended to keep to himself aboard the ship.

The door connecting the CIC and lab sighed open, revealing a bewildering array of instruments like microscopes, computer terminals and other items whose use I could only guess at.

Mordin himself stood amidst the scientific equipment muttering to himself in low tones as his fingers typed rapidly at a holographic keyboard. As I stepped into the room, his fingers paused above the amber-glowing interface and he turned towards me.

The doctor silently regarded me for a few seconds, large dark eyes blinking slowly.

"Hi," I began. "I'm Commander Shepard's yeoman, Kelly. I just came by to see if you're settling in all right."

"Hmm?" Mordin replied, "Oh yes...lab very well equipped. AI unexpected bonus. Already have some theories regarding seeker swarms and how best to counter them."

This speed-rap delivery took me by surprise. Salarians are widely known as quick-thinking people as a whole but Mordin was something else. Taken somewhat aback, I found myself asking about his theories. Big mistake. Mordin carried on speaking almost non-stop for twenty minutes, pausing only to take a breath between sentences.

In the end, I backed out of the lab, having concluded that Mordin had settled in nicely. As the door slid shut, Mordin's farewell floated out to me.

"Enjoyed discussing scientific principles! Talk more later?"

By the time I reached the mess on the crew deck, my stomach was voicing its displeasure at going so long without a meal. I took up a beige plastic tray from the stack atop the counter behind which stood Mess Sergeant Gardner.

"Afternoon, Miz Chambers," he greeted me. Gardner struck me as an old-school type who took matters such as how to correctly address a lady quite seriously. To Sergeant Gardner, I was always going to be Miz Chambers and never Kelly.

"What's on the menu today?" I asked, hope kindling in my chest that Gardner had miraculously found some better ingredients since this morning. Hope died as he sunk a ladle into a large stainless steel pot, poured out a thick brown substance that may have been beef stew into a bowl and placed the bowl on my tray.

I reinforced my fake smile and thanked him. He was doing his best after all. As I slid behind the mess table beside Goldstein, Shepard entered the room. Gardner snapped to attention and I half-expected him to shout "Officer on deck!"

"At ease, Mister Gardner," Shepard addressed the Mess Sergeant, with no hint of her usual slight smile. I nodded understandingly - Gardner was deferring to Shepard's rank and, though this wasn't technically a military ship, Shepard responded in kind.

I began to see the fundamental differences in how Shepard and Miranda interacted with the crew. Shepard treated them no differently to her old Alliance crew, and they respected her for that. Miranda treated them as though they were somehow beneath her, when she bothered to notice them at all. Result? Miranda had long since been tagged Ice Queen. Or simply bitch. Occasionally, particularly embittered personnel had been known to refer to Operative Lawson with a term that starts with C and rhymes with 'punt.'

Shepard collected her meal from Gardner and I noticed only the slightest pursing of lips as she sat opposite me. I straightened a little in my seat. Something about Shepard made a person want to impress her, even when we were just sitting there, eating lunch.

"Checked on Mordin earlier," I said as Shepard's mouth worked around a spoonful of not-quite-stew, as though evaluating the texture.

"Needs more salt," the commander declared and poured about half the contents of the salt shaker into her bowl. She took another mouthful.

"Better?" I asked.

"God no," Shepard shook her head but kept eating. I recall reading in an article on biotics that generating mass effect fields required a larger than average caloric intake. Obviously, the increased diet did nothing negative to Shepard's weight. I can't recall ever seeing an overweight biotic. Unless one counted Miranda's pectoral accoutrements as 'overweight.'

"How was Mordin?" Shepard replied to my earlier statement. She had that hint of a smile on her face as she spoke.

"You know how...on most salarians are?" I answered, and brought another spoonful to my lips. She nodded. I swallowed, "Well, Mordin's like that...to the nth power."

"Back on Omgea, Aria T'loak said, _Just don't get him talking. He never shuts up._"

I knew Aria. The name at least. Cerberus intel deemed Aria 'the driving force behind Omega's criminal structure.' Or to put it another way, she ran the place. Nothing happened on Omega without the asari knowing about it.

"What's Aria like, Ma'am?" Goldstein asked.

"Nice enough to talk to...if you like having trigger-happy goons standing over your shoulder the entire time, waiting to blow your head off if she gives the word."

"Is Omega really as bad as the Council makes it out to be?" Goldstein asked next, her dark blonde ponytail shifing from one shoulder to the other as she leaned on the table.

Shepard shrugged. "How bad _do_ they make it out? I haven't kept up on current events the last couple of years."

"Right," Goldstein answered, suddenly put off by the topic. I sympathised; it was like talking with the relative of a deceased loved one - knowing which topics to avoid.

To Shepard I said, "They make it sound like the sort of place a batarian would sell his own grandmother to a slaver ring."

"Pfft," Shepard said dismissively. "_Any_ batarian would sell his grandma into slavery, if she fetched a fair price."

Coming from Shepard, this stereotypical view of batarians surprised me. "You can't judge an entire race as a whole based on the actions of a few," I pointed out.

Shepard put her spoon down on the table hard, making her bowl jump a little. Sore point. I wished I hadn't said anything.

The woman opposite me leaned across the table, staring directly into my eyes. This close to her, I could see the pores in Shepard's skin and saw the dull red glow of cybernetics in her eyes. The glow seemed to pulse as Shepard said in low, angry tones, "Tell that to the poor bastards from Mindnoir."

Shepard pushed away from the table and left without another word.

"Nice one, Chambers," Joker said as he lurched into the mess, having walked in on the final part of the exchange. "Now you've gotten her all pissed off."

"I didn't mean to...did she have family on Mindnoir?"

Joker sat down in Shepard's recently vacated seat, bowl of not-stew before him. He poked at the bowl's contents with a spoon. He looked up at me, "Family? Nah, far as I know, Shepard has no family. No official records of her parents, for all we know she was sent down by God Almighty to save all us sinners. Bang-up job, Commander."

I sat back, unable to decide how seriously to take the helmsman's reply. Joker pointed his spoon at me. "Any Alliance soldier would have reacted the same way, don't take it personally." Joker paused, swallowed and delivered his next words in so off-handed a manner, I almost choked. "She likes you, you know."

"I..._what?"_ I gasped and reached for a glass of water. By now, Goldstein had left and Gardner was busy tidying his work area. For now, it was just Joker and I. "What do you mean, _likes me?"_

Joker rolled his eyes, "What is this, grade school? Likes you as in the opposite of how she feels about Cerberus as a whole. Why, what did you think I meant?"

I felt my cheeks burn and struggled to find a response that wouldn't leave me looking like an idiot. A slow smile spread across Joker's bearded face and he voiced an amused chuckle. "Oh, Kelly, Kelly, _Kelly."_

I left the mess-hall, not quite running.


	4. Archangel

**4. Archangel  
**

By the time I arrived back on the command deck, having detoured to the ladies' wash-room to run cold water over my face, Shepard and her squad had already resumed operations on Omega.

I kept seeing the look of cold fury in Shepard's eyes when she spoke of batarians. What had I been _thinking_, attempting to pull her up for generalising about them? And the way I'd reacted to Joker's revelation? _Nice one, Kel. By now the entire crew will know you thought Shepard had a thing for you. Outstanding!_

I needed to talk to Shepard and apologise for what I'd said at lunch. Then I needed to kill Joker. Slowly. Unable to do anything else at the moment, I buried myself in work, pulling up files and re-reading them.

The dossier provided by The Illusive Man on Archangel was light on detail and heavy on speculation. The only hard info Cerberus' few assets currently operating on Omega could provide was that Archangel was turian, a skilled sniper and omni-tool user.

The file also noted that Archangel had, in recent months, recruited a number of people with similar skills - ex-military specialists, former C-Sec officers and the like to hit out against Omega's criminal organisations. Since the criminal organisations run Omega, Archangel's interference in their activities wasn't going to continue unchecked.

Comm chatter intercepted by _Normandy's_ artificial intelligence, EDI revealed that the various mercenary groups operating on Omega - Blue Suns, Blood Pack and Eclipse had banded together along with dozens of freelancers in a final effort to bring Archangel down. I found it interesting that the actions of one person could have such a profound impact on so many people. Such thoughts brought Shepard to mind - _her_ actions, and those of her crew had impacted the galaxy as a whole.

And here _I_ was, working side by side with her. The woman inspires feelings of awe and mild terror in equal doses. What we're doing here - trying to save the galaxy, as trite as it sounds is a massive undertaking and even The Illusive Man acknowledges that we cannot do it alone.

Hence Shepard and her team posing as freelancers in an attempt to reach Archangel before anybody else did. Comm intercepts painted a clear picture of the running battles throughout Omega's underbelly as Shepard's team launched a crippling rear assault on the mercs, dispatching them swiftly.

_"They're with Archangel! Stop them!"_

"Welcome to last week, buddy," Joker cracked over the open comm. "Man but these guys are slow on the uptake."

_"Keep this channel clear, Moreau!"_ Miranda snapped.

"Aaand the Ice Queen is back!" Joker chuckled over the ship's intercom.

I couldn't help but smile at the pilot's ability to make light of even the direst situations. Asked to justify his part in hijacking the SR-1 _Normandy_ prior to the pivotal battle for the Citadel two years ago, Moreau is reported to have said, "What, we should have sat around playing strip poker waiting for the Council to pull its collective thumb from its ass?"

I returned my attention to Archangel's dossier. The choice of name itself was interesting, I thought. Angels and other such beings are drawn from a variety of human religions though it's entirely possible other races hold similar beliefs. It's more likely that the name was bestowed upon this lone turian due to his actions on Omega on behalf people unable to fight back. I decided I'd ask him after he got settled in aboard.

A burst of excited chatter over the comm directed my attention away from the file. _"Garrus! What are you doing here?"_

"Garrus? God _damn!"_ Joker exclaimed from the cockpit. "Oh, things just got a _lot_ more interesting!"

Working quickly, I accessed the files pertaining to Vakarian, Garrus, a former C-Sec agent who'd dropped out of sight some months ago. Seems like he'd relocated to Omega to fight crime without the strictures imposed by Citadel Security's regulations. I was hopeful this revelation would work in our favour - Shepard and Garrus had reportedly forged a close bond during the campaign against the geth and the presence of a familiar and trusted ally could only work in our favour, long term.

I wondered what Shepard felt about the sudden appearance of her old friend. As I carried out my routine duties and confirmed a time for an informal chat with Goldstein, I continued to listen to the comm chatter from the ground team.

With assistance from Garrus, Shepard's squad had repelled numerous waves of hostiles. Now, however, it appeared that the mercs were attempting to breach Garrus' stronghold from a maze of tunnels and ducts connected to his apartment.

_"Well, they had to start using their brains eventually,"_ the turian said calmly.

Equally calm, Shepard ordered, _"We'll split up two and two. Miranda, you're with me. Jacob, stay here."_

_"Are you sure splitting up is a good idea, Commander?"_ Jacob queried.

As her reply came over the comm, I could picture Shepard: eyebrows raised and hands on hips, _"Sure...if you want to be the one to explain to The Man how you got Archangel killed because you weren't here to back him up."_

_"No, ma'am!"_ Jacob answered and I could picture _him_ too - back ramrod straight as though on parade, eyes staring straight ahead.

The comm intercepts logged by EDI charted the course of the battle - Shepard and Miranda facing down Blood Pack troops in the tunnels while Jacob and Garrus held them off from Garrus' apartment.

_"Miranda! Get down!"_ Shepard yelled, the last of her transmission all but lost in the roar of a shotgun blast. _"Damn varren..."_ Shepard muttered to herself.

After that, things unravelled with alarming speed. The Blood Pack mercs led by Garm, a powerful krogan warrior assaulted Garrus' position, forcing their way into the apartment itself. Shepard and Miranda arrived barely in time and together, Garrus and Shepard's team brought down the last of the Blood Pack on Omega.

Then, the Blue Suns arrived en masse, bursting into the apartment through the windows while a gunship provided aerial support.

I don't think Shepard will ever forgive herself for what happened next.

Æ

A medical team rushed through the CIC, bearing a stretcher upon which lay a critically injured turian. Blue blood spilled from rents in his armour, splattering the deck. The blood-splats on the floor reminded me of the inkblots used by psychiatrists and I shuddered. The metallic scent of blood was heavy in the air.

As they ran alongside the stretcher, a team of medics headed by Dr Chakwas, worked frantically to stabilise Garrus. The turian's breath came in agonised-sounding gasps and I was certain each exhalation would be the last, but he hung on.

Shepard ran beside the stretcher, armour smeared with more of the turian's blood. Tears, barely suppressed gleamed in her eyes. "Don't you die on me, Garrus!" she shouted, voice quaking with emotion. "You hear me? You still owe me the story of how you lost your whole squad, and I'm gonna collect!"

The medics hustled the stretcher and its cargo into the waiting elevator. The elevator doors closed and it was like they'd never been there at all. The blood glistening on the deck told a different story, however.

The commander stumbled to a halt close to my station like a wind-up toy running down. For a moment, she merely stood there, shoulders slumped, looking so lost and alone, I felt a powerful urge to just go to her and hug her, tell her it would be all right.

I mentally slapped myself instead. Tentatively I said softly, "Commander?"

She looked back at me, eyes red. Tears spilled down her face, cutting paths through the grime on her skin left by Omega. "What have I done?" she said so quietly, I almost couldn't hear. "The damn gunship was _right there!_ I could have..should have..." she trailed off, chest hitching as the sobs shook her.

Of their own accord, my feet carried me across the deck to her and my arms reached out, encircling her shoulders. My offer of comfort was initially met with stiffness as though I were attempting to hug a marble statue. A few seconds later, she all but collapsed against me, crying.

The CIC crew looked at us with varying degrees of sadness, anger and shock. To them, Shepard was invincible - not even death had stopped her. To see her now must have been unsettling.

Crooning nonsense syllables in her ear, I guided to the lift, wishing the ship had a second one - I didn't want her standing in more of Garrus' blood but I had to get her to her cabin and comfort her as best I could.

By the time we stepped into what the _Normandy_ designers had dubbed 'the loft,' Shepard had more or less regained control of herself and drew away from me, wiping her eyes dry.

"God, I hate crying," she muttered, voice hoarse. She slapped her right palm on the door control and it hissed open, revealing her room, over-large for a ship of this size.

This was the first time I'd seen Shepard's quarters and my professional side quickly catalogued the contents, observing the way Shepard's personality had expressed itself here.

The fish-tank dominating the port side of the room initially drew my attention. The tank exuded a calm-looking blue glow into the rest of the room. It was empty of fish. A set of shelves near the desk carried a few scale-models of various ships, including the SR-1 _Normandy_ and a turian cruiser.

Shepard turned to me with a tired smile. "Thanks," she said.

"For what?"

"Being there for me. After the way I snapped at you."

I raised a hand and she fell silent. "I wanted to apologise for what I said. I...you know batarians better than I do."

She shook her head. "Don't. You always look for the best in others and I get the feeling you find it more often than not. Don't ever change that." She swallowed. "Do you think Garrus will make it?"

I nodded encouragingly, "Dr Chakwas will do everything possible for him and I'm sure Mordin will help too."

Shepard fell into the roll-out chair tucked in next to the desk. I noted a holographic picture set into a frame on the desk. The holo flickered on in response to Shepard's motion. Handsome male face, dark hair and dark eyes. Kaidan Alenko, promoted to Staff Commander in the years following the geth war. The promotion was more of a hollow gesture than anything else; the Alliance and Council hadn't been sure how to deal with the surviving _Normandy_ crew and most were tucked away in make-work assignments and forgotten.

What had he gone through, after Shepard had...left? How would he react if he knew she was back? Back and with Cerberus? I put that aside for the moment.

"Do you want me to sit with you?" I offered.

Shaking her head, Shepard got to her feet, leaving blood stains on the chair's upholstery. She was never going to get _those_ out. "I need to shower and change. I have to be there when he comes around."

"He could be in surgery hours, Commander," I pointed out. "You might want to get some sleep."

"Sleep?" Her tone of voice all but shouted, _How can I sleep at a time like this?_ Misplaced feelings of guilt would keep her awake until she could be certain Garrus would live. I nodded understandingly.

"I'll walk back with you, if you like."

Shepard nodded and with not a hint of self-consciousness, began removing her hardsuit. I found something of intense interest on the bulkhead and engaged it in a staring contest.

As Shepard divested herself of her armour, I heard dull clunks and thuds as the various pieces fell to the deck. Then, the sound of a door sliding open and closed as she entered her private shower. The sounds of hissing water filled the empty air.

It hit me then: I was standing in Commander Shepard's private cabin while she took a shower. Unbidden, images of her running her hands over her body as she soaped herself filled my mind's eye.

I forced myself to think of something else and my mind performed as ordered - it gave me all-too-vivid images of _me_ running my hands over her body. I took a deep breath and slapped myself in the face as hard as I possibly could. Both hand and face stung for several moments afterwards.

In order to keep my mind busy on something _other_ than Shepard naked in the shower, I quickly pulled open the drawers set into the bulkhead and pulled out a fresh set of clothing along with a spare pair of boots, laying them out on the bed.

The sound of running water stopped a few moments later, followed by a muttered curse from the shower cubicle.

"Kelly?" Shepard called out.

"Yes?" I replied in a half-shout.

"Can you hand me a towel?"

Quickly, I grabbed a towel from the neat pile inside the topmost drawer and turned towards the shower. Shepard's right arm extended through a gap in the door, skin gleaming with moisture. As I handed her the towel, I noticed the network of veins and tendons running beneath her skin and felt a shiver run through me as our fingers briefly touched. "Thanks," she answered and I stepped aside quickly. A few moments later, Shepard emerged, skin flushed pink from the hot water, towel wrapped around her body, still-damp hair clinging to her head like a close-fitting cap.

I turned away from her even as I took in the curves of her thighs. I heard quick motions behind me as she rapidly dressed.

"Are you OK?" she asked my back. I risked a glance over my shoulder; Shepard was in the process of pulling on her boots. I turned towards her.

"I should be asking _you_ that question," I pointed out.

"You're evading me, Kel," Shepard stated flatly and stood up, pushing aside the pieces of her armour with her foot as she walked to the door. I moved to walk beside her as she left the room and entered the elevator. Shepard stared down at the blood-stained floor as the lift descended to the crew deck. "What a goddamn mess," she muttered and I knew she was referring to more than just the blood.

Before I could think better of it, I gently laid a hand on her arm. "It'll be OK, Commander," I said softly. I drew my hand back as the doors opened. Immediately, Shepard headed towards the med bay, pounding a frustrated hand on the locked door. The observation window allowing the medical staff to see out into the adjoining mess hall had opaqued. I was glad of that; as bad as Garrus' injuries had looked, I didn't want to see him lying on the operating table, laid open like a cadaver in an anatomy class. I grimaced at the thought.

Shepard folded herself behind the mess table to wait. I settled in beside her. Neither of us said anything but I think she drew comfort from my presence. Over the next couple of hours, various crewmen entered and said a few words to her, offering support. She nodded and smiled tiredly. Joker arrived, sat opposite Shepard and, having taken in the grim silence, said brightly, "So, Donnelly and Daniels are running a poker game tonight. Who's in?"

"Joker," I said, feeling suddenly anger, "Garrus is in there," I flung an arm at the med bay, "Fighting for his life, and _you_ want to play poker?"

He nodded, as though considering this. "You're right. We should wait until he's back on his feet. Then we can clean him out. Just like old times, huh, Shepard?"

Shepard mustered a smile and nodded back at her helmsman. There was something between them, an unspoken bond like the one between Shepard and Garrus. I felt a surge of jealously as I realised it was something I'd never be a part of. I quashed the feeling, ashamed of myself. "Yeah," Shepard replied. "Every time he had a bad hand, his mandibles would quiver like mad." She held her index fingers alongside her jaw and wiggled them. We all laughed at that.

As one, our heads jerked around as the medbay doors sighed open and an exhausted-looking Dr Chakwas walked out. Her surgical gown was smeared with blood and the effort she'd put into the operation was evident in her blue eyes. Shepard stood up quickly. "How is he?" she asked.

Walking rapidly behind Chakwas was Mordin. The tall, gangly salarian nodded excitedly "Operation quite difficult," he began, "Very intricate. Enjoyed challenge immensely!"

Chakwas exchanged a glance with Shepard. "I believe what Dr Solus is _trying_ to say," she began in her dry manner, "Is, we expect Garrus to make a full recovery."

"Oh thank God," Shepard breathed and hugged Chakwas, for a moment utterly discarding Shepard the leader in favour of Shepard the concerned friend. Chakwas pat her shoulder in a motherly gesture before stepping back.

"We had to resort to the use of cybernetics to fully repair the damage," Chakwas said in warning tones.

"Yes," Mordin chimed in, looking as wakeful as always, "Long term prognosis quite positive."

Shepard turned back to Chakwas. "Can I sit with him?"

"Yes, but-" Chakwas began but Shepard was already half-way to the medbay. "He won't regain consciousness for several hours."

Joker turned to leave. "If anybody wants me, I'll be up front with my things."

Mordin left as well, clearly pleased at how the surgery had gone. For a moment, Chakwas and I looked at each other. "Is he always like that?" I asked, indicating the direction Joker had taken.

Chakwas nodded, "Jeff...Joker, I mean has difficulty maintaining proper decorum at times." After a moment, she asked, "How are _you?"_

I shrugged, "I'm fine. I just wish there was more I could do for the Commander."

Chakwas laid that motherly hand on my arm as she spoke, "Trust me, young lady, you're doing more than enough already. Shepard could use a good friend right now."

She left me alone then, returning to the medbay as I considered her words. A friend to Shepard? Given my role in Cerberus, would the Commander allow herself to form a friendship with me? She'd been open and honest with me so far and accepted my apology earlier with good grace. The more pertinent issue was whether _I_ could maintain my professionalism around her. I'd let too much of myself slip already. Shepard didn't need me fawning over her like some doe-eyed school girl with her first crush, she needed people she could rely on and trust.

I took a deep breath and set about assisting Gardner with swabbing the deck in the CIC.


	5. Famous Last Words

**5. Famous Last Words**

_Shepard wrapped her arms around Kaidan's taut, muscular shoulders, and pulled him to her, pressing the full length of her body against his._

"_Your gun is pressing into my hip," she murmured, voice husky._

"_That's not my gun," he replied._

The audience jerked and looked back at the entrance to the crew quarters as peals of laughter echoed off the bulkheads. Shepard stood in the hatchway, leaning heavily against the wall, shaking with the force of her amusement. One hand pressed into her chest while the other wiped tears of mirth from her eyes. "Oh, dear _God!"_ she managed to gasp, "_Your gun is pressing into my hip!"_ and she was off again, doubled over and gasping for breath.

The vid, a third-rate 'biographical' film about Shepard had been hastily shot, edited and released mere weeks after the SR-1 _Normandy_ was lost. In my opinion, about the only things the film makers got right were the genders of the people involved. The actress who portrayed Shepard looked nothing like the actual woman and seemed to have been cast into the role based solely on her physical attributes. Somewhere, a cosmetic surgeon would be feeling _very_ proud of his work.

"I'm pretty sure I've seen her in some porn," Joker had commented when the woman had first appeared on-screen.

"Yeah?" Matthews had answered, "Which one?" And God help me if he didn't have his omni-tool activated, ready to record the film titles.

Getting the crew together for a kind of Normandy Movie Night had originally been my idea. I felt the crew needed to relax and unwind after events on Omega and, in hindsight, I should have been wary when Joker offered to select the films to be screened. Now I know why he was so eager.

"That doesn't look _anything_ like me," Shepard observed, a grin still tugging at the edges of her mouth. I was glad to see her feeling better; she'd spent hours by Garrus' bedside, waiting for him to regain consciousness and only had a few hours' sleep herself. I saw the dark circles beneath her eyes as she seated herself beside me, nodding a greeting.

"Nice-looking knockers, though," Zaeed commented.

By now, the on-screen Shepard and Kaidan had torn each others' clothes off and were entwined on a bed much too large to have fit inside the CO's cabin on the _Normandy_. A bed with black satin sheets. I rolled my eyes.

Matthews leaned forward, eyes wide and eager. "Dayam! Look at the _size_ of those!"

Incredulously, Shepard muttered, "How is she even able to stand up? Seriously, her lower back must be in agony at the end of the day."

"Shhhh!" Matthews snapped, "We're trying to watch!"

Shepard leaned forward and swatted her hand against the back of his head. "Ow!" he whined, rubbing the sore spot, "What was_ that_ for?"

"Objectifying women," she replied with a small smile. She changed focus. "Joker, I take it this was your idea?"

The helmsman turned a wide-eyed innocent look to his commander. "Me? No, it was all Chambers' idea!"

"No way!" I protested. "I suggested a movie night to help the crew relax but _this,_" I pointed at the screen where not-Shepard and not-Kaidan were now cuddling in the afterglow, experiencing post-coital bliss. "Was all Jeffrey's idea." I turned a sweet smile at the pilot, knowing he hated the use of his full name.

Joker held his hands palm outward as he attempted to defend his actions. "Honestly, I had _no idea_ the film was so...so...smutty! I thought, wrongly as it turns out, that it was a serious dramatisation of the events surrounding the geth war."

"Mmm-hmm," Shepard replied non-committally. "Who'd they get to play you?"

"Oh, I doubt you'd recognised the name...though I understand he's very popular in the Colonies."

"Right," Shepard answered. "So, just so we're all on the same page here, a studio, attempting to cash in on the events surrounding _my _death and those of countless others, releases a film purporting to be a serious re-telling of said events but in actual fact, is little more than soft-core pornography? Pornography featuring a woman with bosoms so large they generate their own gravitational pull? That about cover it?"

"Uh...yeah," Joker replied sheepishly.

"Well then..." Shepard answered with a smirk, "Who am I to cast judgement on such an obvious work of art?"

Shepard leaned back against one of the bunks as the film played out, occasionally chuckling to herself at the absurdities portrayed on the screen or muttering, "As _if_ anybody could take _two_ shotgun blasts to the chest _point-blank_ and still be alive!"

When the credits finally rolled, Matthews grabbed the remote control for the vid-player and pressed the pause button. In order to copy down the name of the 'actress' in the film, I can only assume. I shook my head. Shepard caught my eye and we shared a brief laugh. "Men," she said softly.

"Little boys, more like," I replied and we laughed again. I thought again of what Dr Chakwas had said, about Shepard needing a friend and felt a warm glow spread through me. Maybe I'd never have the bond existing between Shepard and her old crew, but there _was_ a bond between us, of that I was sure. As the lights came up, the audience members rose to their feet, ready to return to their duties. As I filed out of the room, Shepard stopped me, her hand warm on my arm.

"Thank you," she said quietly. "For setting this up. The crew needed a distraction and I've been too wound up with...other things to notice."

"It's nothing, Commander," I answered but I felt that glow again. "Monitoring the crew's morale is one of my jobs, after all." I paused and swallowed past a suddenly dry mouth. "Shepard?" I began. By now, the rest of the crew had filed out of the room and it was just us. I felt my pulse quicken and, before I lost my nerve, the words tumbled out, "We...we're friends, aren't we, Commander?"

Her gaze bore into mine for a moment and I forced myself not to look away. "Of course we are," she answered. "What brought this on?"

"Oh, I just thought...I'm with Cerberus and you...you're you." Shepard cocked her head to one side, looking confused and I tried to rephrase it, "I mean, I don't want the people I work for to cause problems."

Shepard nodded and I saw the realisation dawn in her eyes. "You're worried that somewhere down the line, the Illusive Man will attempt to force me into doing something against my moral fibre?"

"Yes," I answered in a small voice.

"And you're worried I'll cut you and everybody else loose and walk?" Her words were soft and oddly gentle. I looked at the deck, unable to meet her gaze any longer. I gasped slightly as she gently grasped my chin and tilted my face up to look at hers. "Kelly, any problems I may have with the Illusive Man are between me and him. And I don't make a habit of cutting people loose." She dropped her hand to her side. "We're good, Kel," she declared.

Relief surged through me and I blinked away sudden tears. "Well, good," I said briskly and led the way from the room.

Shepard stifled a yawn with her right hand. "I gotta get some sleep before I collapse. I'll see you at breakfast tomorrow. And Kel?"

"Ma'am?"

"Thanks again. I...don't know what I would have done if you hadn't been there earlier."

I attempted to wave away her praise but in truth, I welcomed it. Shepard had let her defences drop, let an outsider get close to her while she was vulnerable. I understand how difficult that must have been for her and vowed to myself that I'd never break her trust, her _faith_ in me. I could only hope the Illusive Man wouldn't push Shepard into something she found morally reprehensible and if he _did_ that he wouldn't force us to choose sides. I cautioned myself not to get my hopes up; the Illusive Man was capable of utter ruthlessness if he believed the situation warranted it.

That night, it was a long time before I finally fell asleep.

Æ

While the majority of the ship had been sleeping, the skeleton night shift crew sent the _Normandy_ through the Omega mass relay, emerging dozens of light-years away at our next destination – a prisoner transfer aboard the ship _Purgatory_. Purgatory – where lost souls went after they died, lingering between heaven and hell, unable to find peace as they awaited their final judgement. It seemed a particularly apt name for a prison ship – and a depressing one.

According to the dossier from the Illusive Man, the prisoner Shepard was to collect, known only as 'Jack' was the most powerful human biotic yet documented. Jack's criminal history – what Cerberus had been able to uncover of it – troubled me. The files indicated Jack possessed a great capacity for violence and seemed to have very little compunction about resorting to violent measures. _Of course,_ a voice in my head commented. _Why do you think he's in a place like Purgatory to begin with? Unpaid parking fines?_

The convict's history of violence wasn't what worried me the most. I found myself more concerned about Jack's emotional and psychological state. A place like _Purgatory_ was a last-resort measure when all other available options for rehabilitating people had been exhausted. A prison as large as _Purgatory_ couldn't hope to properly assess each prisoner's needs and address them. In all likelihood, the prisoners would be quite literally mere numbers in the system. That kind of thinking could only dehumanise the inmates, make them seem less human to the prison staff. And if the staff saw their charges as less than human, they would have less reason to _treat_ them as human, resulting in poor treatment of the inmates.

Reading through the files on both prisoner and prison, I began to feel this was a very bad idea. Usually, I have no reason to question the Illusive Man's judgement but Jack? Biotic ability aside, the mission was too crucial to have such an element of unpredictability introduced into the equation. I decided to make my reservations known to Shepard.

"Commander?"

Shepard looked up from her study of the galaxy map. The blip representing the _Normandy_ closed slowly on _Purgatory's_ position. "What's up?" she asked and I heard the lightness in her voice. Now that Garrus was returning to full health, Shepard seemed to have let go of the guilt she felt.

"I have some concerns about this part of the operation," I spoke quietly so as to not alert the crew.

Shepard stepped down from the central display and stood beside me. She cocked any eyebrow in a silent enquiry. I took a deep breath. "I believe Jack's personality is too unstable to effectively integrate with the rest of the crew. Some of the crimes attributed to him..." I passed Shepard a datapad with the relevant files. Shepard took it from me and stood reading it, index finger scrolling through the pages of data.

"Hmm, arson, assault, assault with a deadly weapon, murder, attempted murder..._vandalism?_ What'd he do, egg a dreadnought? One-two-three-four-_five_ counts of multiple homicide.." Shepard let out a low whistle. Worryingly, she sounded almost impressed by the rap sheet. "Theft, destruction of property...hell, _I've _done that."

"Commander, this is serious," I said, forcing myself to remain calm. "This...person has no boundaries, no respect for the law and I suspect even less for any kind of authority. I'm worried bringing Jack aboard will endanger the crew."

Shepard placed the datapad to one side and looked me in the eye, the dull red glow visible around her irises. "Kelly," she began, "Do you trust me?"

"Of course, but.." she cut me off with a raised hand.

"Then trust me on this: if Jack proves to be a liability rather than an asset, I'll happily drop him off on Omega, let Aria worry about him."

Though I still harboured deep reservations, I decided to let the matter be for the moment and turned the conversation to other topics. "How is Garrus doing?"

"When he woke up, he looked at me and said, _Did anybody get the number of the truck that hit me?"_ Shepard chuckled softly, corners of her eyes crinkling. Laugh lines, around her eyes and mouth. Despite the things she'd seen and experienced in her life, Shepard found a way to maintain a relatively upbeat outlook.

"He means a lot to you, doesn't he?" I asked. Shepard cocked her head to one side and eyed me speculatively. I may as well have come right out and asked if they'd ever slept together.

"He does. Though not in the way I think you mean. I have a lot of respect for him and his abilities. He chose to walk away from his career in C-Sec two years back to help me take out Saren. Turians take duty and responsibility very seriously. That was a big deal for him."

"I understand, Commander and I didn't mean to insinuate-"

Shepard gave a wry smile, "I'm pretty sure you did, Ms Chambers." She placed a finger to her lips and whispered, "It'll be our little secret."

As the Commander stepped to her private terminal, she said, "Something occurred to me that troubles me a great deal, Kelly."

"Oh?" I asked, sensing wheels turning within wheels.

"You know everything there is to know about me, but I know almost nothing about _you._" She went on, holding my gaze, "That seem fair to you?"

I held my ground though I felt my heart beat a little faster. "What would you like to know?"

She shrugged as though the matter of was of little consequence. "Tell me about your family."

Family – a topic beloved by countless psychiatrists through the years. Freud believed every man secretly wanted to sleep with his mother. "Both my parents are still alive. Dad's a civil engineer – he designs bridges and the like."

Shepard laughed again. I raised my eyebrows. "Build a bridge and get over it!" she responded. I shook my head, smiling a little. Shepard glanced at her console then keyed her comm. "Zaeed, Garrus, Mordin. Suit up and assemble at the airlock in fifteen."

In answer to my unasked question, Shepard said, "Miranda and Jacob have been on the go ever since I...woke up. They need a break, Zaeed has the look of a caged animal, pacing around the ship so he's with me. Garrus needs to ease back into things and this gig should be straight-forward. As for Mordin, it wouldn't kill him to get out of the lab for once."

Shepard tapped her chin as though deep in thought. "Where were we? Oh right, you were telling me about _you."_

"OK, so dad builds bridges...and gets over them. My mother worked full time as a teacher but chose to stay home when us girls came along. She went back after I left high-school though."

"You said 'girls'?" Shepard prompted.

I nodded, "My sister Kathryn and I. She's a vet and also runs an animal shelter."

"And you're a psychologist working for Cerberus," Shepard stated, voice curiously flat. What she _wasn't _asking, I could guess at: what was a 'nice girl' like me working for a 'known terrorist organisation'?

"I believe in what Cerberus is doing, Ma'am," I said firmly. "Maybe I don't always agree with the Illusive Man's methods but..."

"You have to break a few eggs to make an omelette? The ends justify the means?" Shepard stared at me, presenting an obvious challenge. This time, I didn't look away. I wonder how long we would have stared each other down if Shepard's team hadn't arrived.

Zaeed and Garrus entered the CIC at the same time, arguing over weapon load-outs. "Incendiary grenades, Vakarian, never leave home without 'em!"

"Sure," Garrus answered. "_If_ you like having the smell of your own troops' burning flesh in your nostrils for hours afterwards."As they spoke, I studied Garrus. One side of his face was scarred and battered and his hardsuit had definitely seen better days. His eagerness to get back into action was evident though.

Mordin entered the CIC then, scientific equipment supplanted by a pistol on one hip and sub-machine gun on the other. Standing beside the heavily armed turian and humans, Mordin seemed to present less of a threat though I'd heard mention of the salarian serving in the Special Tasks Group, the original basis for the Spectres.

As Joker manoeuvred the frigate into docking position alongside the _Purgatory,_ Garrus asked, "So we're just picking up this prisoner, right?"

Shepard nodded. "That's right. Should be straight-forward enough. I mean, what can go wrong?"

_Famous last words,_ I thought but didn't say.


	6. That Thing

**6. That _Thing_**

Things went bad when _Purgatory's_ CO, Warden Kuril attempted to trap Shepard and her squad in a cell, with the intent of selling them to the highest bidder.

"Son of a _bitch!"_ Miranda spat, her fingers rapidly working a keyboard in the CIC. As Shepard's executive officer, she had command of the _Normandy_ while Shepard was ashore. "I doubt Kuril will live long enough to spend the credits Cerberus used to secure Jack's release but I'll be damned if I'm letting that transaction go through!"

Gunfire erupted aboard the _Purgatory_, transmitted to the CIC crew via the comms. _"Let's find Jack and get the hell out of here!" _Shepard ordered_ "Joker?"_

"Commander?"

_"Power up the engines and stand by."_

"Copy that, engines powering up, standing by."

The deck beneath my feet thrummed as Joker transferred power to the thrusters. The deck seemed to shake as the _Normandy_ felt the force of an explosion from somewhere inside the prison ship.

"What the hell is going on in there?" Miranda demanded.

Shepard sounded short of breath as she replied, _"Short version? Jack – who's a woman, just so you know, is busying herself tearing the ship apart."_

A low murmur of concerned voices hummed throughout the command deck as the frigate rocked again. External cameras fitted to the _Normandy's_ hull offered a superb view of hull plates buckling and jets of flame silently venting into space aboard the stricken prison ship. I gripped the edge of my console hard, feeling the knuckles creak, partly to stay on my feet, partly to quell the shakes wanting to set in. Shepard was in greater danger now than she'd been since she'd first woken aboard the Lazarus Project station.

"This 'Jack' had better be worth the effort," Miranda muttered. To the AI she said, "EDI, can breach their firewalls and do anything to help Shepard?"

"Unfortunately not, Ms Lawson," the AI responded, "Jack has caused too much damage to the _Purgatory's_ onboard wireless network for me to gain access."

"Shepard," Miranda spoke evenly, "We can't do anything more from this end...good luck."

I blinked, surprised to hear Miranda wishing Shepard luck. For the barest of moments, the Ice Queen thawed a little, allowing an insight into Miranda's true self. Then Miranda's barriers slid back into place and her blue eyes took on a hardness.

_"Roger that, Miranda...does somebody want to shut him up?"_

Faintly, a male voice was audible over the comm, Warden Kuril, _"I could have sold you and lived like a king! But I still have Jack!"_

The next sound transmitted over the comm was the _crack_ of a hyper-velocity mass acelerator round. "_That took the starch outta him!"_ Zaeed declared.

_"Impressive!"_ Garrus put in.

Garrus' joyful-sounding exclamation raised a small, momentary smile before I was tossed to the deck with the force of yet another explosion. From my new floor-level perspective, I saw the CIC crew widen their stance, lest they join me on the cold metal deck. The builkheads groaned as, outside, debris spiralled out from the dying prison ship. A hand attached to a muscular forearm entered my field of vision, grasping my arm and helping me to my feet. I nodded silent thanks to crewman Hadley.

I returned to my station, pushing a strand of hair behind my ear and resettling the transceiver into my right ear, in time to hear Shepard's exasperated voice patiently answering an un-heard question.

_"The ship's blowing up, that frigate is the only way off and you want to stand around arguing?"_

So, not only was Jack violent and destructive, she was also demonstrating difficulty in co-operating with others in a crisis. I shook my head.

_"We could knock her out and take her with us,"_ Garrus observed.

A hard, aggressive female voice answered, "_Just try it, I'll smear you over the godddamn walls!"_

"_Enough!"_ Shepard snapped, mild exasperation giving way to raw anger. _"Look, we don't have a lot of time because _somebody_ thought it would be nice to kill the ship. So, here's how things are: we're leaving now. Either come with us and live or stay here and die."_

For several moments, there was only the crackle of static in my ear. Then, Jack's reply. _"Fine. Don't know why you care so much."_ Followed by another, shorter pause, _"Well? Are we going or not?"_

_"Don't push me, Jack,"_ Shepard replied, voice weary.

One of the most commonly seen cliches in films is the hero narrowly avoiding a fatal explosion by mere moments. As badly damaged as the _Purgatory_ was, the hulk held together long enough for Shepard, her squad and Jack to make a dignified entrance into the CIC. I gasped slightly when I realised the lean, shaven-headed, heavily tattooed woman wearing little more than camouflage pants and heavy combat boots was Jack. Thin strips of leather across her small breasts did little to preserve her modesty. Then I realised, that wasn't the aim – Jack _wanted_ people to notice her. She wanted people shocked by the intricate designs covering her arms and body from the waist up.

I wondered how much else of her body had felt the touch of a tattooist's needle and gaped at her openly. Jack paused in her appraisal of the deck crew, eyes alight with scorn and contempt and stared hard at me. I almost felt the anger in her hazel eyes as a physical weight against my chest. "The fuck are _you _looking at?"she snarled. Taken aback by the sheer hostility and venom in her words, I could only shake my head.

Forward of my position, Joker manipulated his flight controls, breaking away from _Purgatory_, bearing towards the local star's mass relay. The _Normandy_ shook again, violently as the _Purgatory_ went nova, the shock-wave tossing the SR-2 about like a blue-water ship during a storm. All around me, I heard bulkheads groaned as the frigate's superstructure absorbed the buffetting.

"Damage report?" Miranda calmly requested.

"Kinetic barriers at ninety percent efficiency, holding," EDI replied.

"Ah," Joker sighed from the bridge, "Lighting out mere moments before something blows up. Feels just like old times."

Until Shepard officially relieved her of command, Miranda was still the ranking officer aboard and took it upon herself to welcome the new-comer. "Jack," she greeted the freed convict, voice neutral, "Welcome aboard the _Normandy_. I'm Commander Shepard's executive officer."

Jack glared stonily at Miranda, hands shoved deep in the pockets of her pants. Shepard and her team stood back, arms loose at their sides, looking deceptively at ease. I knew otherwise; the N7 Spectre was proficient in any number of non-lethal methods should Jack cause problems and need restraining.

Miranda continued speaking, "On _this_ ship, we follow orders."

I cringed. Miranda had read the file, surely she knew playing the the 'rules' card could only antagonise Jack? The convict looked Miranda up and down, eyes alive with contempt. "Shepard?" she began without looking away from Miranda, "Tell the cheerleader to back off."

Shepard interposed herself between Jack and Miranda, smiling pleasantly though the smile didn't reach her eyes. "I'm sensing some...hostility towards Cerberus, Jack. Would you like to expand on that? Maybe we can all come to some compromise."

Jack scowled, "You have no idea at all, do you? You think _Purgatory _and that idiot Kuril are the worst things to happen to a person?" Jack stepped towards Miranda, a sliding half-pace, and brought her face in close to the Cerberus officer. Miranda didn't so much as flinch. "She knows what I'm talking about, don't you, _Miranda?"_

Shepard let out a low whistle. "Boy," she said with forced levity, "Chambers is going to have a _lot_ of work to do."

The tense tableau in the midst of the CIC was broken when Garrus cleared his throat. "Maybe we should find Jack a place on the ship?"

Jack aimed her ever-present glare at the turian. "Don't do me any favours, I can find a place myself." With that, she stalked towards the elevator, indifferent to the stares of the crew.

As the elevator bore Jack away to parts unknown, Miranda turned to Shepard, flatly stating, "She's going to cause problems, Shepard."

Shepard nodded, "Perhaps." She turned briefly to her squad, giving them leave of the CIC. Mordin returned to his lab while Garrus and Zaeed walked to the armory. Turning back to Miranda, Shepard officially resumed command of the _Normandy_, adding, "And everything's right where I left it. Always good to see, Operative Lawson."

Miranda's lips curved in a slight smile, "I'm _s_o glad you approve, Commander."

"What did Jack mean when she said you knew what she was talking about?" Shepard enquired of her XO.

"Who knows?" Miranda answered, a little too quickly for my liking.

Shepard's eyes narrowed, "If you know something, Miranda, I'd appreciate you filling me in. Did Cerberus to something to Jack? Screw her over in some way?"

Miranda folded her arms over her chest. "Shepard, please. Cerberus is _not_ in the habit of_ screwing people over_ just for the hell of it!"

Shepard gave a slight shrug. "We'll pick this up another time, Miranda."

"Of course, Commander." Miranda nodded regally and departed, heading for her office on the crew deck most likely.

"Well, what do you make of that, Kelly?" Shepard asked in low tones after Miranda had left.

I considered my words carefully before answering. The vast majority of people had no idea an organisation like Cerberus existed at all and those who _did_ generally hear of our activities through misinformation from the Council and Alliance. I found it unusual for a person to harbour such animosity just on principle. "I think you're right, Commander," I replied. "I think Cerberus has dealt with Jack in the past in some way."

"You think Miranda was involved?" Shepard asked me next.

I shook my head. "Not directly. I believe Jack's antagonism towards Miranda is due more to the fact that Miranda is the ranking Cerberus officer here."

"Misdirected aggression? Makes sense. Jack can't strike out against whoever did whatever it was to her so she's using Miranda as a scapegoat."

"EDI?" Shepard asked the ship's AI, face tilted upwards, as though addressing God.

"Yes, Shepard?" came the synthesised feminine sounding reply.

"Tell me about Jack's history with Cerberus."

"I'm afraid I can't do that, Shepard. Those files are only accessible by the ranking Cerberus operative present."

Shepard looked towards me, right eyebrow raised. "The plot thickens." Keying her comm, the Spectre raised Joker. "How long 'til we hit our next destination?"

"Korlus? Fifteen hours."

Shepard nodded to herself as she replied, "Put the ship on autopilot and get some rest...that's an order."

"Ah geez! You know I don't like leaving my baby alone with that..._thing!"_

"I'm giving you thirty seconds to vacate the bridge before I come up there and drag you out. Copy?"

Joker replied querously, "What, breaking my arm _once_ wasn't enough?"

"Fifteen seconds, Jeff."

"Alright, alright! I'm going!"

Æ

"You know, one of my uncles was rebuilding this old '57 Typhoon aircar and managed to find exactly the right exhaust manifold down there," Matthews pointed at the floor of the crew deck, far below which hung the ship graveyard world of Korlus. Our intel suggested a krogan warlord named Okeer'd had dealt with the Collectors directly, able to provide Shepard and the Cerberus operatives with a wealth of data and could hopefully tell us why human colonies were the target of the Collectors.

"Wow, Matthews," Hadley deadpanned, "You're just _full_ of useless facts today, aren't you?"

Shepard nodded at Jacob as he sat opposite her, "What do we know about Okeer, Jacob?"

Operative Taylor shrugged apologetically. "Not nearly enough, Commander. All we know for sure is that he fought in the krogan rebellions."

Shepard let out a low whistle. "That would make him at least a thousand years old."

Normally, the chance to speak with a person who'd lived for so long would have excited me – just hearing about what they'd experienced, the changes to the galaxy they'd seen but I registered only mild interest.

"Kelly, you're awfully quiet," Shepard observed.

I looked up from my plate where I was constructing an abstract sculpture in mashed potato. My drop in mood directly co-incided with an attempt to speak with Jack. I'd found her in the sub-deck in engineering reclining on a fold-out cot taken from the crew quarters. Too-loud heavy metal music blared at me from a portable stereo system _also_ taken from the crew quarters. Heavily distored guitars battled with incomprehensible screaming lyrics.

I'd paused briefly in the space around the _Normandy's_ drive core to speak with the engineers on duty, Ken Donnelly and Gabby Daniels. Ken's Scottish accent flowed around me like warm honey, "Hey, Kelly," he greeted me. "There's a below-deck rumour going around."

"Oh God, not this again," Gabby muttered.

Ken ignored her. "Is it true that the wee lass skulking around downstairs got into a...how shall I put this..._altercation_ with Miranda?"

I shook my head, a smile playing over my face as I took in Ken's crestfallen expression.

"So, Jack and Miranda _didn't_ come to blows, with Jack ripping Miranda's catsuit open?"

"Jesus, Ken!" Gabby exclaimed, "What is with you and Miranda's tits?"

Ken snorted, "This from the girl who cannae stop drooling all over _Mister_ Taylor!"

"I. Do. Not. Drool!" Gabby ground out each worth through gritted teeth.

Laughing gently, I left the bickering pair of engineers behind, wondering how long it would take each of them to realise they were a perfect match for the other. I stood at the top of the stairwell, peering into the gloom of the subdeck, trying to decipher the lyrics of Jack's music. After a few moments, I made my way down the steps, left hand trailing along the cool metal of the hull. Jack sat up as I stepped into the sub-deck proper, posture stiffening defensively.

"What do _you_ want?" she asked.

Despite the hostility evident in her words, I kept my stance as open and non-threatening as I could. "My name's Kelly. I'm Commander Shepard's-"

"Bitch?" Jack interjected. "What does she do, bend you over after lights out with a strap-on?"

I recoiled, as shocked by the venom in her outburst as by the words. "No..I..." trailed off, unable to parse my thoughts into words. Jack worried me. Worse that that, she scared me.

"Get out of here. And tell Shepard I'll only deal with _her, _not Cerberus."

I trudged back up the steps, slump shouldered and rode the elevator to the crew deck.

At the mess table, I gave Shepard a tired smile. "I spoke with Jack earlier. _Tried_ to speak with Jack," I amended. Though Shepard said nothing, I saw the skin around her mouth and eyes tighten. "She...Jack has a lot of personal issues to work through," I finished lamely.

I felt the gazes of the crew at the table settle upon me. "Is there anything we can do?" Jacob asked.

"No...no. I'll be fine. Good luck on Korlus." I left the mess at a fast walk, still shaken by my encounter with Jack.


	7. So Naive It's Cute

**7. So Naive It's Cute**

Unwilling to risk any surprises courtesy of the Blue Suns present on Korlus, Shepard elected to make planet-fall with a full complement of operatives, dividing them into two teams. Accompanying Shepard were Operatives Lawson and Taylor as well as Mordin. Garrus led the second, smaller team with Jack and Zaeed. I was curious to see how Jack would react, having to take orders from an 'alien' but she seemed too excited by the prospect of action to care either way. I met the tattooed biotic as she was leaving the armory, stuffing spare thermal clips into the cargo pockets of her pants.

Dull grey combat armour concealed much of Jack's body art, though her arms were still uncovered and she held her shotgun the way another might hold a close friend or intimate. Mindful of my last encounter with her, I decided to try another tack.

"Looking forward to the drop?" I asked as casually as possible though my mouth was dry with trepidation.

Jack's hazel eyes seemed to light up, her smile softening her hard-edged expression, making her face almost pretty. I wondered how she might look, if she grew her hair out; would it be wavy or straight? "Hell yeah, I'm looking forward to it," she answered

"What do you think about our mission?" I asked next, "What the commander is doing?"

Jack shrugged, awkward beneath the body armour, "Who cares? Like I told Shepard, I'm out to survive this then cut loose." Her smile took on a vicious cast, "After that, I've got some hunting to do."

"You aren't at all worried about what's happening to the colonies?"

She frowned, "Why the hell should I be? Life in this galaxy has taught me one thing: everybody's out for themselves and nobody cares whether you live or die."

I shook my head, "You can't really believe that. There are so many amazing people and things in the galaxy and they are worth saving."

Jack laughed as though what I had said genuinely amused her. "Ah, sweetheart," she sighed as the laugher receded, "You're so naive it's cute."

I felt my face heat up as I struggled to form a reply. Maybe I _was_ a little too idealistic but was that worse than going through life constantly expecting betrayal and knife in the back? Before I could answer, Garrus and Mordin arrived, the latter from his lab, juggling a variety of weapons and his omni-tool, the former exiting the elevator.

The battle-scarred turian looked from Mordin to Jack, mandibles twitching. "Shepard wants us at the shuttle bay in five...what _is_ that?" This last was directed at Mordin.

Secreting various arms about his person, Mordin replied, "Hard at work developing thermic energy delivery system."

"What the hell does _that _mean?" Jack demanded.

"Upgraded omni-tool with various items found lying around lab – jury-rigged construction, not completely reliable but," he paused to take a breath, "In essence, omni-tool now capable of delivering projectile of intense heat to armoured and organic targets."

Head cocked to one side, Garrus replied, "So...basically you've made a flame thrower?"

Jack grinned maliciously, "Awesome."

"Flame thrower?" Mordin echoed, "No, no, no..._much_ more accurate. Capable of hitting targets at range."

"But it sets people on fire, right?" Jack asked, eyes gleaming with a sort of joy normally seen in the eyes of small children on Christmas Day.

"Oh yes, on fire. Most definitely."

Shaking his head, Garrus muttered, "Shepard's going to _love_ this."

Æ

_"Normandy, Okeer's a no-go,"_ Shepard calmly stated, as though an important piece of the puzzle needed to defeat the Collectors _hadn't_ just gone out the airlock. I closed my eyes; up until Shepard's announcement, I'd been studying the psych profile on Okeer put together by Cerberus. Knowing exactly how to properly interact with a being almost one thousand years old was crucial to the mission. Or had been. My eyes opened, focusing on the now-redundant profile. _Subject known to have acquired taste for whole raw fish._ The words danced before my eyes, seeming to mock me. Raw fish? We could have bonded over sashimi and wasabi.

Somewhere, as though from a parallel universe, Shepard continued speaking, "_We've got a package to pick up. And he's a big one."_

"Shepard's picking up something with a big package?" Hadley asked aloud. "What the hell is it? Some alien porn star?"

"Only _you_ could think that, Hadley," Matthews retorted.

The _package_ proved to be something altogether different and possibly hazardous. After the team returned from Korlus, I waited until Shepard returned to the CIC before voicing my concerns.

"Is it true that we have a baby krogan in the cargo hold?"

Shepard shook her head. "Not a baby." and I relaxed. Shepard spoke again, "He's a fully-grown super-soldier bred for combat." I felt myself tense up all over again. Seeing the worry evident in my face, Shepard asked, "Is something worrying you?"

"Be careful if you...birth him. His psychological profile is completely unknown. My files were for Okeer."

Shepard rubbed the back of her neck, looked sheepish as she replied, "Yeah, about that. I already let Grunt out of his tank."

"Oh...Since you're still alive, I assume it went well?"

"Krogan are easy enough to relate to, Kelly. They respect strength, fighting ability and a certain amount of brutality."

"You didn't really answer my question," I pointed out.

"He slammed me against the wall, laid his arm across my throat, asked me to prove worthy of command and try to kill him."

"My God," I breathed.

Shepard chuckled. "It's OK, Kel. I convinced him the crew's worthy and he'll fight for us. You should go down and meet him."

"Uh..." I said, stalling for time. Shepard's words had been meant as a suggestion, not an order, so I didn't really need to go down there. On the other hand, I was the only qualified psychologist on board; I had a duty and responsibility to ensure the mental health and well-being of _all_ crew members. Even the homicidal ones like Jack and Grunt. "You're right, Commander. I'll go down immediately."

I saluted and left, shoulders pulled back, heading for the elevator before I lost my nerve. During the short ride to the engineering deck, I breathed deeply several times, attempting to centre myself prior to meeting Grunt. Now that I thought about it, Grunt seemed like an unusual name. I stepped out of the elevator, turned hard left and walked towards the port cargo bay. As the doors whisked open, I heard something heavy pacing the floor inside. In the centre of the room, positioned between cargo containers resting along the bulkheads was a large pod-like structure with reinforced glass doors swung open. Grunt's tank, I realised.

Pacing the deck immediately before the tank was Grunt himself. His hump wasn't as large as that of an older krogan but, as Shepard had said earlier, he was big. The top of my head came up to the underside of his jaw. As I entered the room, Grunt ceased pacing and turned to look at me, surprisingly beautiful blue eyes narrowing.

"You're not Shepard," Grunt stated, voice seeming to rumble from his broad chest. His massive head tilted to one side as he studied me. I wonder what I looked like to him. A threat? Something edible?

"I'm Yeoman Kelly Chambers," I said in greeting.

"Yo-what?" Grunt answered and it occurred to me how amazing it was, that something could be grown to adult size in a tank and emerge able to walk and speak. And dismember, maim and kill.

"It's my job title here on the ship," I clarified.

Grunt folded his arms across his chest. "Do you fight?"

"No, I look after Commander Shepard's administrative duties."

Grunt appeared confused, "Do _any_ of your duties involve fighting?"

I thought about telling him of my experiences dealing with Cerberus' equivalent of bureaucratic red-tape. Instead I shook my head, "No. No fighting."

"Pah," he waved an arm dismissively. "What good are you to anybody if you can't fight?"

I felt something akin to white-hot fury boil inside me. Normally, I don't get angry. But between Jack's attitude and now Grunt's apparent dismissal of my existence, something uncoiled itself within the primitive part of my brain, impelling me towards the krogan until I was standing face to face with him, head tilted up to glare at him.

My words emerged in an angry rush, each sentence punctuated with an index finger jabbing Grunt's chest. "I'm an important part of this crew!" _Jab. _"I am _not_ Commander Shepard's bitch!" _Jab jab._ "I am _not_ Miranda's bitch!" _Jab._ "I'm a person, actual and whole and I'd appreciate a little respect!" _Jab jab jab._

I stepped back a pace, fully expecting Grunt to haul back his fist and punch me through the floor. Instead he tipped his head back and roared with laughter. "Ha! You're feisty! If you knew how to fight, you might be an actual threat!" With that, he slapped me on the shoulder in what I'm sure was meant as a comradely gesture though he almost knocked me to the floor. "I like you, Yeoman Kelly Chambers," Grunt pronounced.

I couldn't help the smile on my face as I replied, "Please, call me Kelly."

Æ

"You're looking pleased with yourself," Shepard observed later, at dinner. The overall mood in the mess that night was grim. Word of an attack on another human colony, Ferris Fields had reached the _Normandy_. Hadley had family there and understandably, wasn't taking it well.

"I had a breakthrough with Grunt," I revealed, feeling mild guilt over my satisfaction in the face of this latest attack.

"Do tell," Shepard invited, passing a bowl of corn up the table to Jacob.

I recounted what had occurred between myself and Grunt, complete with finger jabbing. I rolled up my uniform sleeve, displaying the mottled purple-black bruise on my upper arm. Matthews craned his neck around for a better look and whistled. "That must ache like a mother," he observed.

Smiling, Shepard answered, "Good for you, Kelly."

I only smiled and nodded in reply, again feeling that warmth emanating inside me, having contributed to the mission in some way, no matter how small. I rolled my sleeve back down; not even the ache in my arm could dampen my spirit.

The next day, an alert marked Priority-One-Alpha appeared on my main console, routed through Cerberus Command from the Illusive Man himself. I turned to Shepard, "The Illusive Man wishes to speak with you in the debriefing room," I informed her.

Shepard sighed theatrically, pressing the back of her hand to her forehead, exclaiming, "Oh, the pain, the pain of it all!" Sobering, she went on, "Did he say what he wanted?"

I shook my head, "No, Ma'am. The message _is_ labelled Priority-One-Alpha though."

"The Illusive Man is not in the habit of making social calls, Commander," Miranda put in as she entered the CIC. Behind her, the elevator doors sighed shut. "So whatever his reason for contacting us, it's definitely important."

"Very well," Shepard answered, "While I'm gone, you have the deck, Ms Lawson."

"Of course, Commander," Miranda responded, moving aside as the Commander stepped down from the galaxy map before taking her place. Miranda stood at a kind of semi-relaxed attention, hands clasped behind her back. She turned her head towards me. "What's your sense of crew morale, Kelly?"

Her use of my given name surprised me a little. Had Shepard been in Miranda's ear about loosening up around the crew? It seemed as likely an explanation as any. I decided to test the waters, "Morale is quite high...Miranda." I tensed, waiting for a rebuke. None came. Miranda nodded, wanting me to continue. "Even after with the news about Ferris Fields, the crew is doing well. Hadley...he's putting up a strong front but he's hurting. He had a brother stationed there," I added.

"I'll speak with him later, informally," Miranda said softly. "I'll see to it that his family receive whatever assistance Cerberus can provide."

"That's very generous of you, Miranda," I responded.

Staring into the depths of the galactic display, Miranda spoke even more softly, "Lately I've come to...reassess a few things. I know I have a reputation as a...bitch."

"No!" I replied, "Not at all." Oh, but that was a lie.

"You don't have to sugar-coat it for me, Kelly," she answered. "Once we're done with whatever the Illusive Man needs from us, I'd like you to set up a meeting with Shepard. It's a...family matter," she added.

I opened my copy of Shepard's daily planner. The Commander had asked me to set aside a a two-hour block of time each day to address whatever concerns the crew had. I keyed in Miranda's request. "I'll inform Shepard as as we're done with...whatever it is."

Before Miranda could answer, Shepard's voice issued forth from the ship-wide comm system. _"Joker, set a course for Horizon."_


	8. Hit

**8. Hit**

"I hit him," Shepard murmured, looking down at her hands. The fingers of the left massaged the bruised knuckles of the right.

Several hours had passed since Shepard and her team had returned from Horizon - time enough for the crew to begin to come to terms with the enormity of what had transpired. Estimated losses among the colonists were about one third.  
One third of the world's population gone - taken by the Collectors for reasons unknown. Footage captured via the squad's suit cameras was chilling - men and women frozen mid-stride or caught as they sought shelter within their homes.  
Clouds of small, insect-like creatures - the seeker swarms hung in the air, hunting more prey. I stood in the CIC, watching these images, praying that Mordin's countermeasures would be effective.

If dealing with the Collector attack and losing so many colonists hadn't been stressful enough, Shepard had confronted her former crewmember, Kaidan Alenko. It hadn't been a happy reunion.

Upon re-boarding the _Normandy_, Shepard had retreated to her cabin, uncharacteristically sullen and was yet to return to her duties, prompting Miranda to request I look in on Shepard.

"If I go, she might bite my head off," Miranda had explained. "But she likes you."

I stood in the doorway of the Commander's cabin, watching Shepard. She sat at the foot of her bed, the otherwise taut bedclothes wrinkling where her weight bore down on the mattress.

She glanced up at me, dull eyes set into dark hollows, making her appear older. "I hit him," she repeated. "Right in the mouth. Boom."

"Commander Alenko?" I asked.

"_Staff_ Commander Alenko," she chuckled humourlessly. "If I _were_ still Alliance, I'd be stting in whatever passes for a brig on Horizon right now." She paused, still rubbing her bruised hand, "Striking a superior officer. Superior..." she trailed off.

I remained where I was, uncertain of how I should act. Maintain professional distance? Sit alongside her and offer a shoulder to cry on?

Shepard resolved my internal quandary, jerking her head at the office chair tucked in beside her desk. "Siddown, will you?"

As I sat, Shepard rose, pacing the cabin in quick, somehow jerky steps. "I understand him being hurt by my not contacting him. But doesn't he see I _couldn't_ contact him?" Shepard paused by the fish tank, turning an imploring glance towards me.

I remained silent, letting her vent, "And where does he get off, accusing me of betraying the Alliance and humanity? I didn't see _him_ lodging any protests when we were forced to hijack the SR-1." Shepard ran a hand through her hair, leaving it standing in crazed spikes and whirls. "And where's the Alliance when all this is going on?" Shepard waved her arm at the bulkhead, outside which Horizon orbited its parent star. Shepard answered her own question, "The Alliance is nowhere to be seen! Too busy rebuilding after Sovereign to worry about the poor bastards out here in the great beyond!"

I could see Shepard was becoming more agitated as she spoke and decided to try diverting her attention. "Commander," I began but her words overwhelmed mine.

"And the Council? The same pack of idiots who all but begged us to join them after the smoke cleared? _They_ decided these attacks on our colonies are an internal human issue and won't get _involved!"_

This last word was delivered in a scream and I jerked, surprised at the rage simmering beneath Shepard's normally cool and collected facade. How long had this outburst been building? It was obvious to me that her encounter with Commander Alenko had triggered these strong emotions, but what was the underlying cause? Shepard ceased her pacing and stood before the window set into the bulkhead, unblinking gaze directed at the world far below. "You know what the worst part was?" she went on, voice so low it was almost inaudible over the quiet hum of the ship. "He wouldn't listen to me. Every time I tried to explain why I'm working with Cerberus – even temporarily – he refused to listen and tried to convince me that somehow Cerberus was playing me, that _they_ were responsible for the abductions."

My mouth fell open in a surprised 'O.' Shepard's prior dealings with Cerberus had revealed some ethically ambiguous operations but Cerberus' goal has _always_ been the preservation of humanity. The loss of so many people would never be on the Illusive Man's agenda. The profile I'd read on him suggested Commander Alenko usually kept a cool head and his emotions in check; obviously, Cerberus' past history was a sore point with him. Shepard continued staring out at the stars outside the ship, her tired face reflected in the glass. "In the end, after he'd said his piece he just turned and walked away."

I guessed that was when Shepard had hit him.

"That's when I hit him," she confirmed, as though reading my thoughts. "I called out after him, something stupid and dramatic like _Don't you walk away from me!_ And went after him. I had him by the shoulder and he pulled away from me like...like he couldn't stand to be near me any more." Shepard sighed and scrubbed her face with her hands, "The look in his eyes...it was pity, I think. I felt something _inside_ me just snap and lashed out. It wasn't even that good a punch – he was still standing afterwards. Looked real shocked, too. Hell, _I _was shocked."

She shook her head, "After that, he went and I let him go." Shepard turned from the window and I saw abject hurt and loss in her eyes. "I think I've lost him, Kel. I mean, I've screwed up relationships before but..." she trailed off.

I swallowed past the dryness in my mouth. "I'm sure it isn't as bad as that, Commander. Once he's had a chance to calm down, I'm sure the two of you could work things out."

"We might, at that," she conceded and the pain in her eyes seemed to lessen. Or maybe that was just wishful thinking on my part. "You do couples' therapy, Ms Chambers?" Shepard asked with a small, sad smile.

I nodded sombrely, "When the time is right, I'll do whatever I can to help you, Shepard. Any way I can."

Shepard gave another small smile, and I could see the effort it cost her. "Thanks for coming up here and letting me vent, Kel. Miranda sent you?"

"She's worried about you," I answered and added with a smile of my own, "But I'm sure she'd say it was just professional concern for the Illusive Man's investment."

Shepard nodded, replied dryly, "Yes, it _would_ be poor form for the Illusive Man's four-billion credit investment to lock herself in her room over a bust-up with her ex."

"Is that how you see Commander Alenko?" I enquired. "As an ex?"

"Well, it's easier to say that than have to explain the whole 'spaced, died, brought back two years later' thing."

"Point," I conceded, unsure whether or not I should be relieved by how easily Shepard seemed to be processing the encounter on Horizon. In the short term, I decided, it was better for her to focus on her work, rather than brood over it. Longer term...I sincerely hope Shepard would take me up on my offer of counselling for herself and Commander Alenko. "Are you going to be OK?" I asked, feeling mildly idiotic.

"I will, yes," she answered. Shepard turned to her bed, and in moments it was once more ready to pass inspection.

I stood, returned the desk chair to its proper place and turned the discussion towards business. "I've been going over the new dossiers the Illusive Man forwarded." Three more operatives deemed necessary for the mission's success: Thane Krios a drell and professional assassin. That one worried me, a little. Was a trained killer any more emotionally stable than a person with Jack's history? How was he able to justify killing others for credits? Maybe some of them truly deserved it and _not_ ending their lives would have caused misery for innocents. Regardless, I was interested in meeting him and talking with him.

The other two possible candidates for the team were an asari justicar named Samara and another of Shepard's former crew, Tali'Zorah vas Neema. I was happy for Shepard to have another of her old friends on the crew though reports from Freedom's Progress described a certain level of animosity between the quarians and Cerberus personnel. The justicar was interesting; I'd asked EDI to access the extranet via an in-system comm buoy for any information on justicars. The asari view justicars with a mixture of respect, awe and dread though it was difficult to separate the facts from generations of myth and legends surrounding them. One thing was certain: justicars live by a strong moral code, compelling them to kill those who commit crimes and harm innocents. Entire colonies of civilians disappearing with no trace? That seemed as though it would attract the interest of a justicar.

"They'll have to wait," Shepard stated firmly. "We're going to the Citadel. It's past time the Council learned what's really happening out here."

I joined Shepard as she boarded the elevator and palmed the controls, sending us to the CIC. "Do you think the Council will offer any support?" I asked.

Shepard laughed sourly, "I'll be lucky if they'll agree to even speak with me."

Stepping up to the galaxy map, Shepard nodded to Miranda. "I have the deck, Ms Lawson," she said formally.

"Of course, Commander," Miranda replied and paused. When she spoke again, it was in lowered tones, "I'm glad you're feeling better. Moreau has been driving me mad, arguing with EDI. He wants to try barrel-rolling the ship."

Shepard blinked, "You can barrel-roll a frigate?"

Miranda nodded, "Moreau seems to believe so."

A wide smile lit up the Commander's face, dispelling the hurt, "Oh, _this_ I gotta see!"

Æ

Upon arriving at the Citadel, the crew was granted shore leave and time for some R & R before the _Normandy_ headed out to Haestrom, Tali'Zorah's last known location. Shepard elected to address the Council alone, unwilling to bring Cerberus personnel along and risk giving the politicians more ammunition to use against her.

"Don't see how it'll make a difference," Jacob commented. "These attacks have been happening for a long time and they haven't done anything about it."

"You're just full of sunshine and lollipops today, aren't you, Jacob?" Shepard responded as we strode away from the docked frigate. Behind us, the engineering crew were busy inspecting the outer hull of the _Normandy_ for any signs of damage or metal fatigue.

"Jacob's right, Commander," Miranda put in. "By all means, make your case for aid but I don't expect anything from them. And before you say anything, that's _not_ anti-alien sentiment speaking. It's common sense."

"Well I'm known for a lack of that on occasion," Shepard said and walked off with a wave.

"Hey, Chambers!" a voice called my name. I turned to see Matthews waving me over. "Hadley and I are going to check out this bar we've heard about, the Darkstar Lounge. Want to come?"

"Well, that depends," I answered.

"On what?"

"On whether it's the kind of club with drunk men ogling scantily-clad dancers."

"You into that kinda thing, huh?" Matthews waggled his eyebrows at me.

"it's _not_ that kind of a place," Hadley spoke quietly yet firmly. I was happy he was taking the time to get off the ship. What happened to his brother's colony was terrible but I was glad he was coping. "They shut down Chora's after the attack on the Citadel."

"Oh man!" Matthews groaned, "I _loved_ Chora's! This one time, I got a lap dance from this girl with _really_ huge-" I pressed my index finger against his lips, silencing him.

To Hadley, I said, "I'd love to come with you." I linked arms with him and Matthews and we set off.

The Darkstar lived up to its name: the interior lighting was dim and we stood by the entrance for several moments as our eyes adjusted to the ambient light. The bar seemed about half full when we arrived with most races in Citadel space represented. To our right, a pair of krogan were engaged in a heated discussion. Something about fish. I tugged gently on the arms of my companions, steering us away from the krogan. I wondered what Grunt would think of all this. I had to remind myself that everything would be new to him.

As we neared the bar, I saw Jacob seated at one of the stools, nursing a drink. He nodded as we approached.

"Have you heard how Shepard went with the Council?" Hadley asked as we took our seats.

"Nah," Jacob replied, studying his glass. "Part of me's hoping they'll listen to her this time but..." he trailed off.

"If anybody can convince the, it's Shepard," I said, wishing I had the conviction of my words.

"_The Destiny Ascension has completed its twenty-colony victory cruise to give thanks to those who gave their lives at the Battle of the Citadel." _A youthful-sounding asari voice read out the headlines.

Jacob shook his head, "A _victory cruise?_ That's the Council's problem right there," he waved a hand at the ceiling-mounted speakers. "They think they've already won."

Determined to pull Jacob out of this spiralling funk he was in, I grabbed him by the arm and hauled him off his barstool. He was unexpectedly heavy. "What are you doing?" he grunted.

"Dance with me," I ordered, a little breathless. "You need to relax, Mister Taylor."

"Maybe. But maybe I don't want to dance," he replied but I saw the way his eyes flicked up and down, taking in my appearance. Something about this bar, the music in the background, the soothing many-layered conversations occurring around us made me want to dance, not just to pull Jacob out of himself but also to enjoy myself. I grabbed his right hand in both of mine and pulled him to an unoccupied piece of dance-floor. I felt the tension in his muscles, the resistance. I turned to him, "This is a once in a lifetime offer, Mister Taylor," I whispered in as seductive a manner as possible. It occurred to me, too late, that I was breaching all manner of protocol regarding fraternisation. On the other hand, we were both off duty and in a way, it was professional concern for a colleague driving me.

"Well, how can I say no to that?"


	9. Gutter Journalism

**9. Gutter Journalism**

It was while Jacob and I were dancing – while Jacob was _attempting _to dance that Shepard arrived, her meeting with the Council having concluded. She caught my eye from where she was standing at the bar and Jacob and I parted ways. I'm not sure which of us was more relieved – for a man possessing such skill on the battlefield he was surprisingly lacking in rhythm. I crossed the floor to Shepard, noting as I neared her the tightness around the mouth and eyes, hinting at anger barely held in check. She nodded towards Jacob as I approached, raised an eyebrow. "You two looked cosy over there."

"Oh," I answered, "It's nothing like that, Commander. Jacob looked like he could use some time out so I more or less hauled him out onto the dance-floor."

Shepard smiled slightly. "I would have liked to have seen that. He any good?"

I looked over to where Jacob was conversing with Hadley and Matthews. "He tried _so_ hard, Commander," I said. "But he's really bad. Stepped on my feet a few times."

"I did not," Jacob retorted, walking in on the conversation.

"And he's heavy, too," I went on, with a smile.

"I'm sure it's all muscle, Kelly," Shepard said mildly.

"Yeah," Jacob replied, taking the banter in stride, "Muscle. And gristle. Lots and lots of gristle."

"How did things go with the Council?" I asked, leaving the topic of Jacob, muscle and gristle aside.

Shepard turned a wide-eyed look at me, the expression of a young girl from a remote colony seeing the Presidium for the first time. "They re-instated my Spectre status!" she exclaimed with such over the top enthusiasm I found myself laughing. "Yay!" she added, clapping her hands together, and bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet, every inch the awe-struck farm girl. It was a nice contrast to the grim face she'd presented hours earlier. Even Jacob found a smile. "Bad news is, the re-instatement is so much empty symbolism; the Council can't offer any actual help."

"Yeah, 'cause that would mean admitting they were wrong," Jacob answered.

"But they agreed to see you at least," I sought to find a silver lining.

"In a manner of speaking," Shepard replied, shrugging. "Holograms only, Kel. Oh, and you'll like this: apparently _Cerberus is an avowed enemy of the Council."_ Shepard intoned her last words with deep gravitas, for a moment sounding like a politician herself. "But so long as we confine our activities to the Terminus, they won't try to bring us in."

"Big of them," Jacob muttered.

Shepard smiled that wide-eyed smile again, "Isn't it just?" She sighed, "I did have good talk with Capt-_Councillor_ Anderson though. I wish I could say the last couple of years have been good to him but they haven't."

"How so?" I asked.

"He's a military man, not a politician. He's doing his best but the other three Council members keep over-riding him on anything they deem 'human-centric'."

"Like investigating our colonies in the Terminus?" Jacob put in.

Shepard nodded. "In hindsight, I should have nominated Udina to represent us on the Council. He's an ass but he's dealt with the Council for years, knows how to work them. Anderson should be in command of a fleet, searching for the Reapers."

"So what do we do now?" Jacob asked after a moment. "Head back out?"

"Bugger that!" a British-accented voice called out. We all turned as Zaeed entered the lounge, an enthusiastic Grunt alongside.

"Shepard!" the krogan began excitedly. "Fighting!"

Beside me, the Commander and Jacob went taut, hands reaching for weapons no longer at their sides; firearms had been surrendered at the customs checkpoint outside Zakera Ward. "Why is it, whenever I visit the Wards, gunfire ensues?" Shepard asked aloud.

Grunt shook his head, "Not gunfire, Shepard. _Fighting!_ Hand to hand combat! In a cage!"

Realisation dawned on us. "Oh, cage matches?" Shepard enquired. "I thought that was illegal?"

"On the Presidium maybe," Zaeed countered. "Down here? Anything goes, long as your credits are good."

To Grunt Shepard said, "And I suppose you'd like to watch?"

"Watch?" Grunt exclaimed. "No! I want to join in!"

"Of course you do," Shepard murmured.

Æ

The Commander and I elected to opt out of witnessing Grunt brutalising other sentients in a blood-stained arena encircled by a high fence topped with razor wire, instead exploring the variety of shops in the Wards. Browsing Saronis Applications, I was struck once more by how deep an impact Shepard had made on the galaxy two years earlier.

"Welcome to Saronis Applications," the salarian shopkeeper greeted us before issuing a surprised gasp, eyes widening, "Shepard!"

For her part, Shepard seemed wary, "Do I know you?"

Gesturing excitedly, the salarian answered, "No, but I know you! Even a senile hanar would recognise the hero of the Citadel! I thought you were dead?"

Smiling slightly, Shepard replied, "Yeah, I've been getting that a lot." Something about her delivery and manner sparked a stream of giggles I was unable to quell. In another time and place, Shepard could have been a comedian with that kind of deadpan, self-deprecating humour.

"Is your friend all right?" the shopkeeper asked.

"I certainly hope not," Shepard replied breezily, "Be difficult to get around, having two rights of everything."

"Oh, indeed!" the salarian answered, smiling widely. Still unable to stop laughing, I was reduced to leaning on the counter for support.

"Stop it," I gasped out, "You're killing me." With an effort I forced myself roughly vertical to see Shepard and the salarian talking shop.

"You know, I use a lot of software in my line of work."

The salarian nodded, "It's a shame so many people don't understand their own systems, beyond the most obvious 'point and go' nav interfaces, at least."

"You wouldn't believe how many times I hear 'Why is the ship turning around? We're only half-way there!'" Shepard smiled, obviously enjoying this brief diversion from her duties. I found the ease with which she interacted with non-humans intriguing. In my experience, many people from Earth are less open to accepting 'alien' cultures, people from the outer colonies, much less so.

"Oh, I would!" the shopkeeper laughed.

"You know, I like your products. How about an endorsement from the woman who defeated Saren?"

The shopkeeper became even more animated, jittering slightly back and forth in his excitement. "That would be wonderful...but I can't offer to pay you."

"How about we work out a discount instead?" Shepard offered.

"Certainly! Just speak into my console here."

"All right...give me a minute," Shepard stepped a few paces away, muttering under her breath before returning, "OK, how's this?" Leaning towards the console, she recorded her impromptu sales pitch: "Are you tired of _your_ virtual intelligence mispronouncing your name and failing to inform you of important meetings? Hi, I'm Commander Shepard, and I buy all my software from Saronis Applications, located in wonderful Zakera Ward."

Shepard stepped away from the counter, leaving the salarian looking awe-struck. "Wow..." he began, eyes blinking rapidly. "And you just came up with that right then?"

"Hmm-mmm," Shepard nodded, smiling.

"Such quick thinking among humans...very impressive. Ah, I mean no disrespect, Commander!"

"Don't worry about it."

After making her selections from the shop's kiosk and downloading copies of the applications to her omni-tool, Shepard and I left the store, the Commander's newly recorded endorsement already broadcasting. Shepard paused, looked back the way she came, frowning. "I don't sound _anything_ like that!" she griped.

"Poor acoustics maybe?" I replied.

"Yeah," Shepard answered as we rejoined the crowds outside, "That's my excuse and I'm sticking to it."

Within moments of resuming our meandering path through Zakera, Shepard pulled me into a shadowy alcove, away from the other foot traffic. "What?" I blurted out, surprised. Without looking at me, Shepard raised a hand and I fell silent. With mounting concern, I watched as Shepard pressed herself against the cool metal of the walls, as though trying to melt into it, peering around the corner at something beyond my field of vision.

"Ah, geez," the Spectre muttered. Still not looking in my direction she added, "It's that damn Al-Jilani."

"Oh," I said, realising Shepard's concern. Khalisah bint Al-Jilani was a reporter for Westernlund News who, two years prior had ambush-interviewed Shepard, twisting her words and making her sound like an alien sympathiser who'd betrayed her own people. When the interview went to air, Miranda had called it, "The finest piece of gutter journalism I've seen in some time."

While part of me found something perversely enjoyable about sharing a dark nook with Shepard, hidden in plain sight, the larger part of me wondered how to deal with the situation. It was obvious Shepard had reservations about meeting the reporter but we couldn't stay here. Making only the slightest sound, Shepard turned towards me, her face mere inches from my own. In the dimly lit alcove, I saw a dull amber glow encircling her irises and, not for the first time, wondered exactly what was hidden beneath her skin. "Right," she said after a moment. "I have a plan."

"Do tell," I replied, my voice quivering slightly. I felt an almost electric tingle spread over my skin, standing this close to Shepard.

"I need you to distract her. I'll slip through the crowds and head back towards the transit terminal where we arrived. When I'm clear, I'll alert you."

I swallowed hard. "Distract her. OK, yes, I can do that."

A hand pressing between my shoulders gently pushed me out of the niche. "Go. Good luck." I stumbled back into the flow of multi-species foot traffic, almost colliding with a rotund volus. Moving through the crowds, I caught sight of the reporter Shepard had already seen, tall and exotic-looking with dark skin and hair, clad in a style of figure-hugging outfit quite popular with younger asari. As I neared her, I forced a huge smile, opening my eyes wide and said the first words that came to mind.

"Oh my GOD!" I shrieked, drawing surprised looks from passers-by. "Oh my GOD! Ms Al-Jilani! I am such a huge fan!" Now that I was committed to the performance, it felt surprisingly easy. Al-Jilani rolled her eyes, composing her features into a resigned yet indulgent expression – oh great, _another one._

"Ms Al-Jilani, I was wondering if I could have an autograph?" I asked, bouncing up and down on my feet as though unable to contain my excitement. In person, I noticed her face seemed more lined than on the news-vids.

She gave me a perfunctory fake smile, "Of course. Who should I make it out to?"

I passed her a datapad. "Kelly! Oh, this is _such _an experience! You have no idea!" I prayed Shepard had cleared the area; I couldn't keep this up for much longer. As I watched, Al-Jilani scrawled something across the datapad with an electronic stylus before handing it back to me. I made a show of gawking at the screen with amazed gratitude. In truth, I was trying to decipher what was actually written there. The signature was perfectly legible though. A genuine smile lifted the corners of my lips. I was sure Shepard could find any number of slightly illegal ways for which Ms Al-Jilani's signature could be re-purposed.

My comm bleeped; my omni-tool display informing me the signal was on Shepard's frequency. "I have to take this call," I told the reporter, "Thanks so much again!"

"Think nothing of it. I so do _love_ talking to my fans."

I stepped away from her, keying my comm as I went. "Chambers."

"Shepard," the Spectre replied, "Nice work keeping her occupied."

"I feel so...dirty."

Shepard chuckled into my ear, "She has that effect on people."

At the transit hub, I showed the datapad to Shepard. "I got her autograph. What would you like to do with it?"

Shepard took the datapad and squinted at the surface, turning it upside as she attempted to read it. "God, and I thought my handwriting was bad. We'll put it up for sale on the extranet, see if anybody wants it." Shepard handed back the datapad. "Come on," she said, "I've already recalled the rest of the crew."

Walking quickly to keep up with the Commander, I asked, "Who are we looking for?"

"We're going to Haestrom to find Tali."


	10. Perverts and Quarians

**10. Perverts and Quarians**

"Yes? Is there something I can help you with?" Tali'Zorah's words were guarded and her posture defensive. I reminded myself that not all Cerberus operations were run as cleanly as this one; a Cerberus cell had infiltrated the quarian Flotilla while attempting to locate a young biotic girl, leaving many quarian casualties.

The mission to locate and recruit Tali had not gone smoothly. A heavy geth presence had occupied Haestrom and the local star itself was unstable – bombarding the planet with so much solar radiation, its protective magnetosphere was unable to block the harmful UV. The result was frequent equipment failure, rendering the team's kinetic barrier emitters problematic at best.

Visiting the engineering deck to chat with Tali, I expected her to display some hostility towards Cerberus in general but I hoped we could quickly move past that; her psychological profile revealed no deep-seated issues such as those plaguing Jack. Overall, I looked forward to meeting her. "Hello," I began, mindful of Kenneth attempting to eavesdrop without seeming to eavesdrop. I smiled as Gabby forcibly pulled him back to his console. "My name's Kelly. I'm Commander Shepard's administrative assistant. I came by to see how you're settling in."

As I spoke, Tali's posture changed noticeably as she relaxed. "Oh, sorry if I sounded rude just then..._you're_ the Kelly Shepard was telling me about? It's nice to meet you."

For a moment, I was so taken aback, I was speechless. Dumbly, I took Tali's offered hand and we shook. I was only dimly aware of the feel and texture of Tali's suit against the palm of my hand. Hoping to sound casual, I asked, "Shepard spoke of me?"

Tali's helmeted head bobbed up and down. "She said that even if the _rest_ of Cerberus can't be trusted, I can trust you."

"I...that's very nice of the Commander to say that."

"As for how I'm settling in, very well. This ship is so like the old _Normandy_ that it's instantly familiar. I'm surprised Cerberus could build it without anybody knowing."

Kenneth's Scottish brogue floated to us from the power-transfer console, "Aye, but Cerberus has ways and means, lass!"

"And the crew's been really wonderful as well," Tali went on, waving at Ken and Gabby. "I actually feel more at home here than on the Flotilla," she added with a slight sigh.

"Why do you say that, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Oh, it's nothing, really. I love my people but returning home after all the things I saw and did with Shepard and the old crew, life on the Flotilla didn't feel the way it did before I left."

I nodded, "I can understand that. Things like that can change a person's outlook on life." Hoping to turn the conversation in a lighter direction, I gestured to the softly humming drive core. "Is the ship giving you any trouble?"

Tali laughed softly. "Please. Compared to the ships in the Flotilla, _Normandy_ is close to perfect...except for the AI."

Yes, the AI. As a quarian, Tali had more reason than most to distrust EDI, after the geth forced the quarians to flee their own world or face annihilation. I tried to put Tali at ease, "EDI has many constraints placed on her and does not have direct access to the ship's systems."

The blue holographic sphere serving as EDI's avatar flickered into existence via a holo-projector mounted on the bulkhead. "What Ms Chambers says is true, Tali. I am no more a threat to you than any other member of the crew."

Tali folded her arms and I could tell she was frowning beneath her helmet's visor. "I hope you'll understand if I reserve judgement."

"Of course, Tali," EDI said and flickered out. Was she offended, I wondered? Could an AI take offence? I thought about the geth and the quarians – the geth had _definitely_ taken offence with the quarians' actions, with terrible consequences.

"I understand you had quite a few adventures during your pilgrimage?" I tried next, hoping to move away from the subject of the AI.

Tali brightened immediately, "It's funny, actually. What I found so strange initially were fingers."

I tilted my head to one side, "I'm not sure what you mean."

"My people, turians, salarians, krogan, volus all have three digits per hand. Asari and humans have five. I found it so strange. _What do they do with those extra fingers? Don't they get in the way?_ I thought to myself."

I held my right hand up before me, turning it this way and that. "We get by," I said with a small smile. I dropped the hand to my side. Lowering my voice, I enquired. "Can I ask something...personal?"

Tali's eyes, visible as a soft glow through her visor narrowed slightly. "You want to know what it's like to live in this suit your entire life?"

"I'm sorry," I said, looking away, "You must get that a lot."

A tired-sounding sigh issued from the quarian's breather. "It's fine. At least you're asking me directly instead of getting your information from extranet fetish sites."

"Fetish...sites?"

"Oh yes. You think hanar tentacle porn is bad? Most people choose to believe quarians are either at least partly cybernetic or part geth ourselves – which is completely untrue. Others have this strange thing about our immune systems – since our systems are so weak, quarians _must_ be terribly fragile little flowers in need of the galaxy's protection. Of course, it's only a ruse for them to...what is the human term? _Have it off_ with us."

I didn't know quite _how_ to reply to that. Joker might have said, "I got nothin'."

"But you wanted to know what it's like to live in a suit, not the perverts young quarians on Pilgrimage have to deal with."

I blinked slowly at Tali. "Yes," I said eventually. What sort of a person would try to take advantage of somebody like that? Of course, I'd be lying if I didn't admit to wondering what quarians looked like under the suits, or how their skin would feel to another's touch.

"In all honesty, since my people left the home world, they've never known anything different. To us, suited life is perfectly normal. The only time we are outside our suits is to give birth...and being, ah, intimate with another." Tali's feet shifted on the deck and I could tell this was a delicate subject for her. "Of course, any time we are outside the suit environment, we are left open to infection. But our species would have died out long ago if something like mating could kill us."

She spoke this last so matter of factly, that I found myself shifting uncomfortably. The other races take such things as sex and reproduction for granted, for the most part. I'd never really considered the difficulties quarians encounter just to maintain a viable population. I cleared my throat, "Would you like to discuss something else?"

I saw faint movements behind the visor as Tali smiled, "What, you don't want to hear about my immune system or how I have to subsist on nutrient paste because taking off my helmet to eat actual food could kill me?" Tali laughed gently, briefly patting my arm with one hand. "Since you asked, I'm worried about Garrus. It was a nice surprise to see him again on Haestrom but...he's not himself, Kelly. Something's eating at him but he won't tell me what it is."

"Were you and Garrus close?" I"ve always found inter-species relationships fascinating. Aside from the obvious physical differences inherent in each species, there were differences in outlook, in how different races interact with each other. Asari, for example possess an extraordinarily long-term 'big picture' view of the galaxy – decisions made by the asari government had to be weighed carefully so as not to cause negative effects long term. Salarians by contrast, lived only a fraction as long as asari and simply cannot afford to spend so long in contemplation of the galaxy and its mysteries.

"At first, we used to drive each other to distraction. He was always tinkering with the Mako and it could be difficult to actually _talk_ to him at times."

I smiled and nodded, thinking of the hours the turian spent in the _Normandy's_ forward batteries, 'calibrating' the main gun. I think he stayed there for the quiet and solitude more than anything else. How much calibrating did one gun need, after all?  
"And he never wanted anybody to fiddle with 'his' Mako. That boshtet of a vehicle completely absorbed his time. Eventually, we established a working relationship."

"How?"

"Garrus would maintain the Mako's armour, main gun and engine while I'd handle the internal electronics and shields. The Mako worked beautifully after that...then Shepard drove it through the mass relay on Ilos and crashed it into the Citadel. The steering and suspension were never quite right, after that."

"Why not just replace the Mako, if it was so badly damaged?"

Tali shook her head, "Garrus wouldn't hear of it. He insisted it could be rebuilt. I understood. Quarians have held onto ships dating back to the geth uprising, keeping them running with constant upgrades. The Mako was banged up, yes but not nearly as much as some of our ships." Tali paused, "And then the _Normandy_ was destroyed and well...the old team just drifted apart."

"I heard about that, I'm sorry," I offered. The Alliance had attempted to cover up the events surrounding the loss of the SR-1 _Normandy_, sealing official records and reassigning the surviving personnel, though no consideration was given to Shepard's non-human crew. Nothing was ever said through official channels, but it was thought the Alliance brass was uneasy about the 'aliens' serving aboard the ship.

"Thank you but it's all right, really. Now, most of the old team is back together – Shepard, Garrus and I even Joker and Dr Chakwas. I still miss Liara though. Even Wrex."

Mention of the old krogan warrior brought Grunt to mind. "Have you met Grunt yet? He likes to stay in the port cargo bay when he's not planet-side."

"Shepard introduced us. Apparently, quarians aren't as 'soft' as humans or salarians. I'm not sure I want to know what he meant by that."

"What about Jack?" I wanted to know. The former convict had settled herself in the sub-deck on engineering, her mere presence enough to unsettle the crew. I often wonder how much of Jack's facade was just an act: is she really as anti-social and violent as she likes us to think, or was it all calculated to keep others at a distance?

"I haven't had much to do with her. Isn't Jack usually a man's name among humans?"

I nodded. "But I wouldn't want to point that out to her."

Tali nodded. "I should get back to my duties. Thanks for coming down, Kelly." Tali turned back to her console and activated her omni-tool, head bent over the readings. I stepped away from her station but remained in the area, watching her work and admiring the intricate patterns in the fabric of her suit.. After a few moments, I returned to the CIC.

Æ

"_Just once I'd like to respond to a distress beacon and not stumble into a geth ambush!"_ - Attributed to Lieutenant Commander Shepard, SSV _Normandy_, 2183

I exited the elevator as _Normandy's _communication receivers intercepted a distress call, seemingly from a civilian freighter. During the geth war of two years ago, the synthetics often used distress beacons to lure Alliance ships into ambushes. Records showed Shepard's team went out of their way to neutralise as many ambush sites as possible, potentially saving hundreds of lives. So it was with a certain amount of caution that Shepard ordered EDI to play the message.

A mature woman's voice began speaking._ "This is Captain Zarah Collins of the MSV Life Begins broadcasting on all frequencies. We've suffered an engine failure and require immediate-"_ The woman's voice cut off as something in the background exploded. When the voice returned, it was with equal parts anger and exasperation, _"Did the primary buffer panel just fall off my ship for no good reason at all? Son of a...This is MSV Life Begins broadcasting on all frequencies-"_

EDI reported, "The message cuts off after that, Shepard."

"Broadcasting on _all_ frequencies?" Miranda echoed. She stood at Shepard's terminal while the commander herself occupied the platform above the galaxy map. "They may as well put out the welcome mat for any pirate group passing by."

"You think it's a trap?" Shepard asked.

"Could be," the XO answered.

"I don't think it's a trap, Commander," I put in. Both Miranda and Shepard turned to look at me. Miranda raised an eyebrow, Shepard nodded silently for me to continue. "The stress in the Captain's voice? You can't fake that kind of exasperation, Ma'am."

Shepard turned to Miranda, "I know this isn't an Alliance vessel, but we still have an obligation to at least investigate the source of the message. If it's real, people need help. If it's not..." Shepard shrugged. "We clean house and continue to Ilium."

"Very well, Commander. I'll assemble a boarding team."

The co-ordinates the distress call originated from were about two hours' flight time from our current location; Shepard decided to take advantage of the fresh supplies the ship had taken aboard at the Citadel. As we entered the mess, Gardner was putting the final touches on a colourful bowl of apples on the counter. He looked up as we entered, "Commander Shepard! Thank-you! Finally I can put my culinary genius to work for the crew. Here, have an apple!" The mess sergeant handed us each a beautifully shiny red apple, harvested from trees grown in an orchard on the Presidium.

I bit into the apple, relishing the crunch as my teeth dug into the skin and tasting the juice on my tongue. As I chewed on the apple, Gardner looked on expectantly, obviously wanting positive feedback. Unable to speak, I gave him a thumbs up. Satisfied, he returned to the counter, smiling.

"What's your take on this distress call?" Shepard asked. She leaned against the mess table, right ankle crossed casually over left as she ate the apple.

"As I said, I think it's real. But you should be careful. Uh...not that I mean to tell you how to do your job."

"I appreciate the concern, Kelly." Shepard's lips curved upwards in small, secret smile. "It's nice to know somebody cares. Beyond the usual concern a person has for a breathing four billion credit investment."

"Cerberus cares more about you than just as an investment, Commander!" My words came out harsher than I'd intended; Shepard nodded agreeably. "I didn't mean to snap at you, Shepard," I added. I felt a flush rise in my face and looked away.

"Is something troubling you, Kelly?" Shepard asked softly.

I sighed. "I know you've had run-ins with Cerberus operations before but..." I trailed off.

Shepard waited as I gathered my thoughts, eating the last of her apple. Casually, she tossed the core, bouncing it off the bulkhead and into the waste bin by Gardner's feet. "She shoots, she scores," Shepard said with a smirk before turning back to me.  
I took a breath, "You may not want to believe it, but Cerberus does good work, Commander. I just wish you would give us a little more credit."

Uncrossing her feet, the Commander straightened and stepped towards me. "I give _you_ and this crew," she made a sweeping motion with her right arm, taking in the area, "Plenty of credit. Plenty," she repeated softly. "I'm even cool with Miranda, most of the time. But the Illusive Man? I'm sorry, Kelly but I've seen the end results of too many Cerberus operations to _ever_ trust him. Right now, we're all working together because it's mutually beneficial. But as soon as I'm no longer useful to him..."

I shook my head, strands of my short auburn hair taking flight. "No. I don't believe the Illusive Man would be so cold as to..." I couldn't force myself to actually vocalise the words.

Shepard did it for me, her off-handed delivery doing nothing to soften the impact, "Have me killed? Maybe not at first but do you think he'd allow something he's sunk so many resources into to just walk if he can't control me?"

"He isn't a monster," I replied, keeping my voice strong. And yet...The Commander seemed so sure of herself and hadn't I myself said that Cerberus' methods were harsh but our goals were good? The road to Hell is paved with good intentions, or so the old saying went.

"Got a job for you, Kelly," Shepard said next in a blatant attempt to change the subject. I stayed quiet, nodded in reply. Her words still echoed in my mind – _Have me killed?_ No, I couldn't think that. I forced myself to focus on Shepard's instructions, "I want you to pull up all the info you can find on this freighter."

"The _Life Begins,"_ I said neutrally.

Shepard nodded as she went on, "Who it's registered to, the usual."

"Of course, Commander," I replied stiffly and left. The crew of the combat information centre carried out their duties as usual though I did notice an increase in chatter among the staff as they worked at their stations. The prospect of something completely unrelated to the Collectors or Reapers had the crew amped up. I overheard part of a conversation between Matthews and Hawthorne as I walked to my station. "That woman on the radio sounded pretty attractive. Wonder what she looks like."

Hawthorne rolled his eyes, "You can't tell whether somebody's attractive just by the sound of her voice."

"Yeah?" Matthews retorted, "So you've never been on the phone talking to perky-sounding customer service rep and _not_ wondered what she looks like?"

"What she _looks like_ or how big her boobs are?" Hawthorne shot back. "And anyway, no...not while my wife is in the room."

At my console, I asked EDI to connect to the extranet and pull up any data available on the freighter in question. Fortunately, we were within range of a comm buoy and she was able to process my request within seconds, trawling through dozens if not hundreds of databases belonging to Citadel Security, the Systems Alliance and Cerberus' own databanks.

"I have collated the information as requested, Ms Chambers," EDI informed me, "Downloading it to your console."

"Thank you EDI," I replied as I scrolled through the data. The MSV _Life Begins_, a heavily modified Kowloon-class freighter was currently registered to a Zarah Collins, age forty-one. The holo accompanying the registry file was of an attractive woman with shoulder-length auburn hair and nice bone structure. Her most striking feature were her eyes – one was green, the other brown. It seemed Ms Collins was only the most recent owner of the ship and the vessel itself had a chequered history; past owners had been involved in smuggling and the sale of illegal arms. Collins herself appeared to run a legitimate shipping concern.

C-Sec records revealed the ship had been purchased two years earlier by Collins from an auction of ships and other vehicles impounded by C-Sec. A brief check of the Captain's background revealed no prior military service or experience in the shipping industry. Financial records revealed that Zarah Collins was a beneficiary of a relative's estate and had received enough funds to purchase the vessel outright. Slowly, she and her crew had built a small client base of regular customers and suppliers, supplying goods to several human colonies in the Terminus. Risky business at the best of times, even more so now.

I gathered my findings and presented them to Shepard who by now was in the bridge, chatting with Joker. "Commander," I greeted her.

Shepard half-turned away from Joker's seat, "I'll talk more with you later," she told the helmsman.

"See you, Commander," he replied, rotating the chair back towards his consoles.

Shepard walked with me back towards the CIC. "What do you have for me?"

"The ship checks out," I informed her, handing her the datapad.

Shepard spent several minutes silently reading the file, tip of her index finger tapping at the display. I noticed small amounts of grease beneath her short fingernails, likely from cleaning her weapons. Looking up at me, she said, "Nice work, Kelly. Good to know we're not waltzing straight into trap, this time."

Standing behind Shepard, I observed the galaxy map as the blip representing the _Normandy_ closed with that representing the stricken freighter. Shepard reached out with her right hand, the haptic adaptive interface tracking her movements and opening up a second holographic display overlaying the map. Centred in this secondary screen was a magnified version of _Life Begins,_ columns of data scrolling down either side tracking the ship's EM outputs. If the situation _was _an ambush, EDI would detect and increases in power output immediately.

At that point, the _Normandy's_ main gun, lovingly cared for by Garrus would likely be fired for the first time in anger. For the sake of the freighter's crew, I hoped it wasn't a trap.

**Author's Note:** Originally, the _Life Begins _and her crew were to feature in a non-canon story I was writing set in the Mass Effect universe but it didn't come together. So I thought I'd stick it in here for the hell of it. And yes, that's a line from _Serenity_ in there.


	11. Sign Nothing

**11. Sign Nothing**

With the _Normandy_ docked alongside the _Life Begins,_ Garrus led a boarding team including himself and Tali plus Kenneth and Gabby to assess the damage and effect repairs if possible. The final members of the team were Zaeed and Jack for additional muscle should the freighter's crew prove hostile after all. Jack seemed to find the assignment a waste of time. "Babysitting the engineers while they fix up some piece of shit freighter? Come on, Shepard!"

"She's right," Zaeed put in, "It's hardly a stretch of our abilities."

"You get paid either way, Massani," Miranda declared, putting an end to the argument.

As the boarding team moved through the freighter, I watched the feeds from their suit cameras. The interior of the ship was somewhat cramped but otherwise clean and well-kept. Spaced regularly along the bulkheads were colourful holographic images, enlivening the otherwise dull gunmetal grey of the ship. The ship's engine room was a different story, however. Red emergency lights bathed the room an eerie red and the hum of the drive core was conspicuous by its absence.

Off screen, the captain's voice asked, "So...how bad is it?"

The feed from Tali's camera panned left, bringing the captain into view. She bore a dishevelled look and her quasi-military-style jacket was rumpled as though she'd slept in it. Tali's reply was delivered in reassuring tones, "I've seen worse. Don't worry, we'll have you up and running again soon."

"Good, great!" Zarah answered, relief evident in her tone. Her footfalls faded as she left the team to work.

Once the captain was out of earshot, Tali added, "We're going to be here all day!"

Æ

Some hours later, at the top of the _Normandy's_ 'night shift,' the repair crew returned, faces and clothing daubed with grease and lubricants, faces lined with weariness.

"I didna think they still _made_ those old power inverters," Kenneth muttered as he and Gabby passed my station.

"How bad was it?" I asked.

Tali paused on her way to the elevator. "I'm surprised that ship has held together for as long it has. I had a quiet word with the captain before we left and gave her a list of improvements she needs to make. She was very grateful for the help." A yawn issued from Tali's helmet. "Sorry," she said, "I need to sleep for about sixteen hours. I'll see you in the morning. Or is it evening?"

I laughed softly, "See you later, Tali."

From her position at the galaxy map display, Miranda raised Joker on the comm. "We've dallied here long enough. Set course for Ilium, Mister Moreau."

"You _ever_ going to call me Joker, Miranda?"

"No."

Æ

The _Normandy_ was an hour out from Ilium when the command staff ordered the crew to a briefing in the comm room. This unusual request caused some murmuring among the crew – at every other planet we'd stopped at, the ground team had deployed as usual, trusting the crew to carry out their duties with no further direction.

Shepard, Miranda and Jacob stood at one end of the long table in the comm room, the Cerberus operatives flanking the Spectre. The rest of the ground team stood amongst the crew. Shepard gave the crew time to settle before stepping forward a pace and beginning the briefing. "I decided to call this meeting due to the nature of Ilium's relaxed trade laws. Operative Lawson was kind enough to fill me in on a few things. Basically, on Ilium, anything goes. Red sand, the sale of other narcotics, all legal. There's a very busy sex trade-"

"Woo-hoo!" a voice called, eliciting a few laughs.

"Thank you, Mister Matthews," Shepard said dryly. "Also slave trading. Pardon me, 'indentured servitude'" Shepard raised her hands, making quotation marks with her fingers. "Bottom line, don't sign anything. Because if you do without knowing the exact details of _what_ you're signing, you may find out you've just signed yourself into a long-term contract as a topless dancer in a bar some place."

"That's if you're lucky," Miranda added. "In all seriousness, feel free to explore the trade district around Nos Astra when we dock just be careful."

"Concern for the crew?" Kenneth muttered to Gabby in lowered tones, "From _Miranda?"_

"I guess the Commander's influence is rubbing off on her," she answered.

"Once we land, you all have shore leave until our business here is concluded. And remember," Shepard pressed the palms of her hands into the tabletop and leaned forward, gaze travelling across the room, "Sign nothing. Dismissed," she added as she straightened.

Feelings of unease grew within me as, under Joker's guidance, the _Normandy_ docked at the Nos Astra space port. Though not in asari space, Ilium was home to a large number of the mono-gendered aliens. The planet also attracted a large contingent of volus merchants and traders. The warnings from Shepard and Miranda echoed within me. There was a legal slave trade? The people running Ilium could dress things up with whatever corporate-speak they liked but it struck me as wrong. Maybe the indentured servants enjoyed greater comforts on Ilium than those enslaved by batarians but I couldn't see how that made it any less unethical.

Disembarking from the ship, however, the sheer beauty of the Nos Astra skyline made me forget my worries for a moment. Elegant and graceful towers reached towards a sky of soft purples and violets as the sun descended below the horizon. I turned as Jacob stepped up beside me. "Pretty isn't it?" I asked.

"I guess," he replied with a shrug. "Easy to forget the stuff that goes on _behind_ it all."

I folded my arms and glared at him. "Is your glass _ever_ half-full, Mister Taylor?" I took a brief moment to enjoy the surprised look on his face before turning on my heel and following the rest of the crew.

Before long I found myself inside Eternity, an upscale-looking establishment off the main trading area. A few table and chair sets were scattered throughout the area with a long bar occupying most of one wall. I watched with interest as a mixed group of males – humans and a salarian – enjoyed a performance from a scantily-clad asari dancer. Well, the humans enjoyed it, the salarian seemed more confused than anything else. Curious, I sidled close enough to overhear their conversation.

"I still don't see the point of this," the salarian waved at the dancer as she writhed seductively before the group. "Salarians _do not _'get married'! We arrange fertility contracts."

One of the men waved a hand dismissively. "Sounds like a marriage to me. And anyway, this is what people do for their friends when they get married. So just enjoy it."

I smiled to myself as I edged away from the gathering. A bachelor party for a salarian? I wondered what Mordin would think of it. I turned towards motion in my peripheral vision; Commander Shepard and Operative Lawson were engaged in conversation with an unfamiliar asari clad in dark grey fatigues. Was this the asari Justicar the Illusive Man wanted us to locate? Their meeting apparently concluded, Shepard and Miranda left the bar, speaking to each other in lowered voices. As they passed, I caught the name Oriana. Miranda looked worried, unusual for her. Shepard murmured something I couldn't make out and Miranda nodded, some of the tension leaving her face.

I put the matter aside for moment – Shepard and Miranda were capable of looking after themselves. Settling into a seat at a chair at the rear of the establishment, I decided to read over the dossiers for the assassin and Justiar one last time; unless the Illusive Man passed on any more files, they would be the final members of the squad Shepard would lead through the Omega-4 mass relay. I sat back in my chair, tuning out the hum of conversations and the club's music. Nobody knew what lay beyond the relay, only that no ship passing through had ever returned.

Going into this mission, we all knew it would very likely be a one-way trip but now that we were so close to our objective, the prospect of death – or worse – at the hands of the Collectors began to weigh on me. I felt gripped by a sudden powerful urge to hear my sister's voice should the unthinkable happen and we never seen each other again. I collected my datapad and rose from the chair. The asari tending bar gave me directions to a public comm terminal on the main trading floor.

"Twenty-five! Sell at twenty-five!" a volus share trader shouted to whomever was on the other end of his connection. I selected the comm booth farthest from the traders and entered my sister's contact details, trying to remember what time it would be on Earth. Nobody wants to be awakened at 0400, to experience the quickened heart rate as they brace themselves for whatever bad news a late-night call presages. Real-time vid communications tend to be prohibitively expensive, with many people communicating via pre-recorded messages or using voice-only comms for real-time chats.

Thankfully, the vast resources allocated to the Lazarus cell allowed me the luxury of speaking with Kathryn face to face as it were. **Establishing Connection** flashed across the screen for several seconds before my sister's image appeared. Her already-pretty face seemed to light up as she smiled, green eyes crinkling at the corners. "Kelly!" she exclaimed.

An answering smile grew on my own face. "Hey, sis."

"So, what occasions the call?" Kathryn asked.

I adopted a properly scandalised expression. "I'm shocked! I need a reason to call up my favourite sister?"

Smiling, she replied, "Analysing peoples' neuroses must pay better than I thought, if you can afford the exorbitant fees for real-time comms."

While I hate lying to my family, Kathryn can't know of my role within Cerberus or even that the organisation exists at all. My family believe I work as a counsellor in an Alliance government department. The department actually does exist, it's just one of many fronts for Cerberus. "What can I say?" I answered, "I miss your dulcet tones and caring disposition."

On screen, Kathryn's eyes shifted as though she were trying to look over my shoulder. "Where are you calling from, anyway?"

I saw no reason to lie; she could always check the routing information to see where the call had originated. "Ilium. Nos Astra, actually."

"That's in the Terminus. What are you doing there?"

"Holiday," I replied casually, slightly ashamed at how easily the lie came. "Long service leave," I added.

"Long service? Get outta town! You're not even thirty yet!"

I smiled. "Jealous much?"

"Uh, yes. When I was your age...God, I sound like our mother."

"How are they?" I asked, referring to our parents.

"Oh, the same. Dad wants to try his hand at re-modelling the house." Kathryn mock shuddered.

"Dad knows less about carpentry than I know about particle physics."

"I know. We've tried to persuade him to hire a builder but you know how he gets once an idea's in his head."

I nodded. Kathryn smiled lopsidedly. "You're a lot like him, you know?"

"I am not!" I retorted. "At least I always read the manuals before I start tearing the house apart with power tools."

Kathryn laughed, the sound rendered only slightly tinny by the comm terminal's speakers. "So..." she began. "Have you _met_ anybody recently?"

I rolled my eyes. I knew from the way she emphasised 'met' she meant somebody to sweep me off my feet like in the old romance vids she'd devoured when she was younger. "Maybe I have," I said.

"Really?" Kathryn leaned forward, "Tell me everything!"

Right. I was going to tell my older sister about the inappropriate feelings I've had for my commanding officer. Said commanding officer being a woman. Kath was open minded about most things but I didn't want to start an argument over this. Not when things were going so well between us. Instead I replied, "I can't really get into it right now."

"Kel! He's not married is he? Please tell me you aren't the _other woman!"_

I rolled my eyes. "No, it's nothing like that."

"Is he gay? I've been on that merry-go-round before, honey. It's not pretty."

This was news to me. "When did that happen?"

She waved a hand dismissively. "We're not talking about me. So spill."

I sighed, wishing I'd just outright lied about this in the first place. _Yes, I met somebody. We went out a few times but didn't click. You know how it is._ Nice one, Kel. Now you'll be fielding questions until one of us dies from old age. "It's...complicated. And we're all really caught up with work at the moment."

"Oh, an office romance? There's an old saying, very applicable to the current discussion. _Don't get your meat where you get your bread._ Are we on the same wavelength here? It's not your boss, is it?"

"Let me guess," I said dryly, "You've been on that merry-go-round before?"

Kathryn laughed. "Haven't we all?" She sighed. "Just look after yourself, OK? You're still young. You're gorgeous, you can afford to take your time with this. Don't rush into things with the first guy who smiles at you, you know?"

Unexpectedly, I felt a lump form in my throat. Despite our occasional disagreements, my sister still cared deeply about my welfare. I swallowed, felt myself tearing up. "Sage advice as always, O wise Guru," I replied as flippantly as I could. "It's been great to speak to you, Kath but I need to go. Say hi to mum and dad for me. Love you."

Kathryn nodded. "I love you too."

I sat back as the screen went black, winced at the amount of credits deducted from my account. A youthful-sounding asari voice drew my attention away from the terminal as it announced the latest headlines over the local comm system. "In news just to hand, police have received reports of gunfire and explosions from the Dantius Towers here in Nos Astra. Citizens are urged to avoid the area and remain calm. We'll have more on this story as it develops."

Gunfire and explosions? It could only be Shepard and her team. I checked the time on my omni-tool. By Nos Astra's reckoning, it was early evening, with the local clubs and entertainment venues just starting trade for the night. The _Normandy_ ran on Alliance Standard Time and my body clock told me it was just after noon. I decided to return to the ship and avail myself of some more of Gardner's cooking. With the fresh ingredients from the Citadel, the cook had assembled a truly sumptuous banquet the previous night and left overs were plentiful.

I had just swallowed the last spoonful of peach cobbler when the lift doors on the crew deck opened, heralding the arrival of the _Normandy's_ newest crew member and an injured Shepard. I rose from my seat as the Spectre staggered into the room, head hung low, right arm slung around Miranda's shoulders, left around a drell I'd never seen before.

The name from the dossier popped into my mind even as I struggled to see the extent of Shepard's injuries. I could see no obvious damage to her armour she didn't seem to be bleeding but something was obviously wrong. "Shepard is injured," the drell, Thane Krios calmly stated. "She needs medical attention."

Unable to speak, I could only point at the medbay even as Dr Chakwas bustled out to take charge of the situation. "What happened?" she asked.

When Shepard replied, her voice was slurred and barely audible. She sounded drunk. "Eclipse bitch overloaded my shields. Ugh, my amp's fried. Head hurts like a mother."

"I don't understand," Miranda interjected as she assisted Shepard into the medlab. I followed at a discreet distance. "L5 implants are insulated against energy spikes."

"I'm demanding a refund," Shepard muttered as she lay on her back upon one of the beds. "Ohhhh..."

Chakwas turned to us, pulling on a pair of latex gloves. If she was surprised by the presence of the drell, it didn't show. "I'll see to the Commander. The rest of you will have to wait outside."

"Of course, Doctor," Thane replied, his tone respectful. He bowed his head towards Chakwas before leaving. Outside the medbay, Thane turned to me. "We haven't been properly introduced."

I hadn't expected such well-spoken and polite words from a trained killer. I reminded myself never to judge a person before meeting them. "My name's Kelly Chambers. I'm Commander Shepard's administrative assistant. Welcome aboard."

"Thank you, though I wish we could have met under more pleasant circumstances." As he spoke, Thane clasped his hands behind his back and I took in his appearance. The long black coat hung from a wiry frame and the small, regular scales on his chest seemed possessed of a faint sheen beneath lights.

I turned to face Miranda. "What happened, exactly?"

Miranda sighed and folded her arms over her chest. "We were on our way out of the penthouse at the Dantius Towers. One of the Eclipse mercs, wounded from the earlier fire-fight hit Shepard with a high-powered ECM grenade. Took down her shields and damaged her amp." Miranda's face hardened. "I shot the bitch but it was already too late."

I tried to sound more confidant than I felt. "I'm sure the doctor will be able to handle it." Even as I spoke, a strangled cry of pain came from the medlab and I cringed involuntarily.

"Shepard possesses a strong spirit. She will survive," Thane pronounced.

I hoped he was right.


	12. Pink Dancing Elephants

**12. Pink Dancing Elephants**

I spent most of the next morning discharging mundane administrative duties, filing requisition forms and the like. An anonymous crew member, most likely Matthews had submitted a requisition for a Fornax subscription. Written in the Comments section of the form was _There is a dire shortage of naked asari. I would like to rectify this._ Despite my concern for Shepard, my mouth curved upwards in a small smile. I made a note to have an informal chat with Matthews about his interest in alien pornography or 'tasteful erotica' as the publishers would no doubt like to refer to it.

I didn't believe he had any real addiction to such things but I wanted to be sure he wasn't using it as some substitute to forming real, lasting relationships. With actual people. The clerical work attended to I rode the elevator to the crew deck, wanting to visit the Commander. Despite the evident pain from her injury, Shepard had insisted she was fit for duty, prompting Chakwas to administer a light sedative, allowing her body to rest. The damage to the Spectre's biotic implants was limited to the plug-in amp installed at the base of her skull. Using schematics from Cerberus archives, EDI was able to manufacture a replacement with the minifacturing equipment in the armory.

When I arrived on the crew deck, the doctor was seated at the mess table, drinking from a steaming mug of tea and chatting with Gardner. The cook nodded to me as I entered the room. "Mornin' Miz Chambers."

"Hello. I wanted to thank you again for the excellent meals we've had lately."

"Hell, it ain't nothing. The crew deserve a few decent meals, it's the least I can do."

My high school English teacher would have been apoplectic with rage at the usage of 'ain't nothing' but Gardner's heart was in the right place and I wanted him to know his work wasn't going unnoticed. "The crew appreciates the effort, Mister Gardner."

Gardner rubbed a hand over his balding scalp, seemingly ill at ease with the praise. He looked relieved when I added, "I should let you get back to work." I slid into the seat opposite the doctor. "How is the Commander doing?" I asked.

Chakwas smiled ruefully. "Shepard is perhaps the worst patient I've ever had. She hates to have people fuss over her. But as far as physical damage goes, she's very lucky. The power spike disabled her amplifier but beyond that, the Commander is almost fit for duty."

I smiled in reply, recalling the extensive profiles on Shepard. The Spectre was happiest when immersed in work – forced inaction was anathema to her. "She must be tearing the bulkheads off in frustration."

"She'd appreciate a visit from you, I think," the doctor answered and I nodded, intending to do so. I left the mess table as the doctor continued drinking her tea.

As I stepped through the doors into the medlab itself, I saw that Shepard had disregarded the advice from her medical practitioner and was instead seated cross legged on one of the beds, reading from a datapad and occasionally tapping the screen with her forefinger. She looked around as the doors hissed open. "Come to visit the invalid?" she said in greeting, laying aside the datapad and swinging her legs around so they hung from the side of the bed. The Commander wore her usual uniform of fatigues with the Cerberus insignia cut away, replaced with that of the Systems Alliance Navy.

I walked towards her, noting the slight pallor of her skin. "You should be resting," I chided. "You look pale."

Shepard snorted, "Spend your career on one starship after another and _you'd_ look pasty as well."

"Paler," I amended, with a small smile. I paused to fully take in her appearance. Aside from her wan complexion, I was hard pressed to see anything wrong with her. "How are you feeling?" I sat alongside her on the bed, a few inches between us.

Shepard looked at the bulkhead opposite for a moment before speaking. "I'm fine. Really. The doc removed the amp and ran a series of baseline tests. The eezo nodes in my system are fine. The implant jack in my head is fine." She shrugged. A small shudder went through me as I thought of the invasive procedures required to produce usable mass effect fields in humans. Surgery, then years of training in a place like BAaT or the Ascension Project. These days, such surgery was almost as routine as a hip replacement but all surgery carried a risk.

Shepard turned to me with a playful smile. "Chakwas shot me up with some pretty heavy painkillers when I first came in." She chuckled to herself as though recalling an amusing anecdote. "I was seeing dancing elephants prancing up and down the deck," she gestured at the floor.

I blinked, "Elephants?"

"Dancing elephants," she gently corrected. "_Pink_ dancing elephants."

"You're making that up," I said, frowning.

The Spectre placed a hand over her left breast. "On my honour, it's the truth."

"Drugs, hm?" I put in.

Shepard nodded. "Back on Earth, the gangs I ran with would kill to get their hands on this stuff." The Commander paused, a mental switching of gears. "How are you?" she asked.

"I was worried about you earlier but I can see you're fine."

"Any crew concerns I should know about?"

I nodded. "Miranda would like to know if she should assemble a team to locate the Justicar, Samara or wait for you."

Shepard's face tilted towards the ceiling. "EDI?"

The AI's avatar appeared near the door. "Yes, Shepard?"

"Tell Miranda to assemble a team: herself, Garrus, Tali and Thane. His knowledge of Nos Astra's streets and back alleys should be helpful."

"Of course, Shepard."

"And EDI?"

"Shepard?"

"Tell Miranda to be polite to the Justicar. I've heard they can be sensitive about such things."

"Very well, Shepard," EDI replied before blinking out.

"May I ask you something, Commander?" I began.

Shepard's eyes narrowed. "Sounds ominous."

I smiled my most disarming smile and her face relaxed. "I wanted to know what it's like," I made a vague gesture in the air with my hand. "As a biotic."

"What'd you learn in school?"

I shifted on the bed as I recalled the details. "In humans, exposure to airborne element zero in-utero causes tumours and severe birth defects in the child. In rare cases, the element zero forms into nodes within the child's nervous system."

Shepard nodded, "Right. I got lucky. My female parental unit carried me to term, probably couldn't afford the abortion, now that I think about it."

"Shepard!" I gasped, taken aback by this flip remark.

"Yeah," she rubbed the back of her neck, "That was a little harsh. I was born all pink and healthy with no cancers and managed to survive until I enlisted. 'Til then, I'd had no idea I even _had_ biotic potential; it showed up in the medical."

"What happened?"

"Alliance Medical Commander gave me the option of having the surgery to implant an L3 unit. 'Course, they weren't exactly forthcoming about all the inherent risks. Another enlistee who had the surgery the same day I did woke up blind. Far as I know, he never regained his sight."

A hand went to my mouth. "That's terrible."

"I make it sound worse than it was. This was over a decade ago. The success rate's almost total these days." She shrugged. "Having a hole drilled into your skull's only the beginning, anyway. Years of intense training just so you can generate a basic mass effect field without blowing off the top of your own head. The Alliance tries to start training children as young as possible nowadays. Then there's what Cerberus did to Jack," Shepard's face and voice hardened. "I don't care what spin Miranda put on it, there are lines you just don't cross."

"Cerberus-" I began. The words ceased as my mouth dried. The expression on her face was one of barely restrained fury. Spots of red bloomed in her otherwise pale cheeks. The red glow of her cybernetics seemed to pulse in time with her heartbeat. For the first time since meeting her, I was afraid of Shepard.

"No," she said, her voice a forceful whisper. "This isn't about Cerberus helping advance humanity. This is about Cerberus ruining peoples' lives and causing untold misery." Shepard took a breath and the fury seemed to drain out of her. She turned her face away from me, one hand idly plucking at the sheet. "I'd like to be alone at the moment."

I felt my heart beating too hard in my chest and had to swallow past the dryness in my mouth. "I'm sorry, Shepard." I said quietly. "I never meant..." I pushed myself off the bed. I stood there a few moments longer, knowing I had to say something to smooth things over, make it right but unable to find the words. I opened my mouth, closed it. Shepard's head turned towards me and for the first time, I saw lines of weariness etched in her skin. "Go," she said softly, her voice carrying no hint of her earlier anger. "I'm sorry I snapped at you. But I need you to go."

I nodded and left, passing Dr Chakwas as she re-entered the medbay. "Am I going to have to sedate you again, Commander?" she asked in her dry tones. A glance over my shoulder revealed Shepard once more reviewing the files in her datapad. She sighed and lay back on the bed, folding her hands over her chest.

"Better now?" she asked, staring at the ceiling.

"Much."

Æ

The _Normandy's_ observation deck was aglow with blue-white light, a shifting corona of energy swirling around the asari. Samara sat cross legged on the cool metal deck, hands resting palm upwards on her thighs, meditating. At first, Samara gave no sign that she'd heard the doors hiss open and closed or my heels on the deck. I stood a few feet behind her, entranced by the light show rivalling the starscape outside. Without looking around, Samara spoke in an oddly detached manner, "Is there something I can assist you with, Kelly?"

"I came by to see how you're settling in. Is there anything you need, Samara?"

The biotic corona subsided, bringing a dimness to the room. Her moves smooth and graceful, Samara unfolded herself and stood upright. The Justicar turned to face me, blue eyes sharp and piercing. I felt unable to meet her gaze and instead looked out at the stars beyond the window. When Samara replied, her tone of voice suggested she may have been speaking of the weather. "I have little need of anything beyond my personal arms and armour. You need not trouble yourself."

I forced myself to meet her eyes. Samara struck me as almost stiffly polite yet cold and distant at the same time. From what I'd read about them, Justicars devote their lives to roaming the galaxy, often on a personal quest and helping those in need. Justicars dealt in absolutes – good, evil, right and wrong. Those who fell outside the law often met harsh fates if their paths crossed with that of a Justicar. When Samara spoke again, I flinched slightly. It was though she'd seen something in my eyes. "Something troubles you. I am not as well-versed in speaking with others as I might like but perhaps it may help to talk."

The irony of her offering to counsel a counsellor was not lost upon me, forcing a short laugh. "You're very good at reading people, Samara," I replied.

The asari nodded. "I have roamed the galaxy for much of the last four hundred years. In that time, I have learned to 'read' others, as you say."

Unsure where to begin or whether I should begin at all, I sat on one of the low couches in the room. Samara resumed her meditative stance in the centre of the room. Aware of the monitoring devices installed throughout the ship, feeding information to the Illusive Man, I chose my words carefully. "Are you aware of Cerberus' reputation?"

"I know little of your organisation, beyond the fact you oppose the Collectors and Reapers. That is enough for me."

I blinked. "Most non-humans are...wary of Cerberus. They see us as anti-alien."

Samara's head turned towards me; I took in the graceful curve of her neck. "I have learned of the dangers of blindly accepting the opinions of others." She paused a moment before adding, "That is not what truly concerns you."

_The wisdom of a thousand years._ When Samara was born, humans were still fighting a variety of long, bloody wars on Earth, hitting each other in the face with swords and axes. I sighed. "The Commander – Shepard – doesn't trust us. Cerberus, I mean. I've tried to tell her that we aren't as..._evil_ as most people like to believe. The organisation does good work."

"I have spoken with Shepard. She does not strike me as one who makes such judgements without consideration."

"She...dealt with several Cerberus research bases two years ago. I don't know what they were working on – it's well above my security clearance but whatever it was." I sighed again. "It set Shepard against the Illusive Man."

"You are conflicted," Samara stated, getting to the heart of the matter.

I nodded. "I admire the Commander a great deal. I respect her opinion. I...like her. But at the same time, I believe in what Cerberus stands for. I'm afraid." I paused again, struggling to get the words out. "I'm afraid that if the Illusive Man tries to force her into something against her morals, she'll cut all ties with us and leave."

Samara's face turned towards me once more. "You feel as though she would be abandoning _you_ personally."

"No! Not just me...the crew as a whole..." I hung my head. I sighed again, defeated. "You're right," I said quietly. "I know it's selfish."

"It may be difficult, but in times of need, often we are called upon to lay aside our own wants and desires for the sake of something greater than ourselves."

Samara was right, of course. Unexpectedly, a faint smile appeared on the asari's lips. "It may even come to pass that, should Shepard sever ties with this Illusive Man, she might well ask that you and the crew accompany her." The smile disappeared. "She will need trusted allies, in the days ahead."

Whether she intended it or not, Samara's words lightened my mood and I felt more at peace with the situation. The thought of Shepard defying the Illusive Man _and_ taking the _Normandy_ and crew with her...it was scary. But also exciting. I rose from my seat. "Thanks for chatting with me, Samara. You've given me a lot to think about."

"It was no trouble. For now, I should return to my meditations."

As I left the room, it was once more engulfed in blue and white light, brighter than before.


	13. Rock Star Welcome

**13. Rock Star Welcome**

The reception the CIC crew gave Shepard when she stepped from the elevator was akin to that a rock star might receive, stepping onto the stage, guitar in hand. As though reacting to an unseen cue, the crew rose as one from their stations and broke into cheers and applause. Shepard stood just outside the elevator doors and cast a quick glance over her shoulder as though asking herself if she should retreat back inside. A shrill voice screamed, "I want to have your babies, Commander!"

At this outburst, Shepard's face broke into an embarrassed smile. "You guys," she said, holding her hands up in an appeal for calm. Her appeal went unanswered; the applause continued for several moments more. "I suppose you had something to do with this?" she asked me, eyebrows raised.

"I may have let slip Dr Chakwas gave you leave to return to duty."

"You're an evil bitch, Chambers," Shepard said, amusement sparkling in her eyes. To the crew at large, she called out, "Thank you, thank you! I'll be here all week."

As the crew returned to their stations, Hadley summed up their feelings. "It's damn good to see you up and around again, Commander."

Shepard nodded, "Your concern is noted, Mr Hadley. And appreciated." The Commander stepped to the galaxy map as Hadley resumed his station aft of the bridge. Shepard's head turned towards me; her skin had lost its earlier waxy pallor, regaining its usual 'ship tan.' "Is there anything I should know?"

Even as she asked, an incoming message lit my console holo-display. I touched a finger to the interface, opening a message from the Illusive Man. He wanted to speak with Shepard in the debriefing room. Post haste. I schooled my face into a neutral expression. The last time Shepard had spoken with the Illusive Man, or rather the last time the Illusive Man had spoken _at_ Shepard, the encounter on Horizon was the result. I mentally prepared myself as best I could for any similar emotional trauma resulting from this new summons.

To Shepard I reported, "The Illusive Man wishes to speak with you in the debriefing room, Commander.

Silence punctuated with an expressive eye-roll spoke louder than actual words could have. After a moment, Shepard answered. "Of course he does. Because _clearly _I have nothing better to do than listen to him talk." Shepard stepped from the map display and departed the CIC without another word.

"_Sounds like she's still a little sore about Horizon."_

I hit the intercom harder than was necessary. "You were listening in, Joker?"

His reply sounded tinnily in my ear, _"So it's OK for the AI to listen in but not me? Besides, I'm bored and alone all up here by myself."_

"Log into the Fornax site," I shot back, my reply far more irritated than was warranted. I sighed and took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, Joker."

"_You kidding? This stuff is gold!"_

Shepard's voice spoke to the crew through the internal comm system. _"Joker, The Man should have sent us some co-ordinates."_

"_Copy, Commander,"_ the helmsman replied, his voice stripped of its usual bantering tone. _"Where are we headed?"_

"_We're hunting a Collector vessel."_

Æ

Upon returning from the ambush aboard the Collector ship - the _Normandy _narrowly escaping the vessel as its main gun opened fire – Shepard stormed onto the CIC, face white with fury but for a bright red spot on each cheek. Such was her rage, she was almost unable to speak, instead biting off words, her teeth gleaming with saliva. "Illusive Man. Connect me. _Now!"_

Stunned by the latest turn of events – the ambush, the revelation that the Collectors were in reality re-purposed Protheans and, worst of all, that the Illusive Man had known the situation was a trap – I mutely did as the Commander ordered. As Shepard left for the comm room, I slumped against my station, feeling wrung out. Everything I thought I knew about Cerberus and my place within the organisation had been called into question in recent times. Until now, I had no reason to doubt the Illusive Man or his goals and ambitions but to gamble with the lives of so many people for the sake of some information?

I felt myself begin to shake with delayed reaction; if not for Joker's piloting skills and EDI resisting the Collectors' hacking attempts, we'd be free-floating atoms now. Or worse. "God," I moaned, burying my face in my hands. I almost shrieked as a hand came down on my shoulder.

"Shh, it's OK," Shepard murmured from behind me. I lowered my hands and turned towards her, still twitching. Her armoured hand lay gently on my upper arm for a few moments longer, her anger spent, vented at the Illusive Man. I resisted a powerful urge to bury my face in her chest. All at once, I wanted to be somewhere other than _here._ I didn't care where, just so long as it was safe and I could be close to her. I swallowed hard and rubbed my eyes. The Spectre brought her hand to her side. "I'm sorry I scared you, Kelly."

"Is it true?" I demanded, "Did the Illusive Man sell us out?"

"Your boss has strange ways of showing he cares about his people, I'll give him that much." Shepard paused, eyeing the crew. "This will go better if I address the whole crew. EDI."

"Yes, Shepard?"

"Open a ship-wide channel."

"Ready."

Shepard stepped past me, ascended the platform above the galaxy map and stood, hands clasped behind her back, a general reviewing her troops. "Attention crew, this is Commander Shepard." At every station on the deck, men and women paused in their duties and turned to face the Commander. "By now, you're probably wondering which way is up," she paused. "The truth is, I'm not sure myself at the moment but know this." Again, Shepard paused for effect, the crew around us leaning forward in their chairs. I imagined that elsewhere in the ship, the crew were listening with rapt attention. "I'm committed to this mission, to this _crew_ and I promise you all," Shepard raised her voice, "We _will _see this through. We _will_ exact justice for each and every colonist the Collectors have taken and we _will _succeed."

A roar of approval erupted from the crew and enthusiastically, I added my voice to theirs. When we quieted, Shepard went on, voice softer but with no less intensity. "We just escaped a trap the Collectors laid for us and yes, the Illusive Man knew it was a trap." Low rumbles of discontent, like a gathering storm, spread through the deck. "But, in his defence, if the Collectors knew that _we_ knew it was a trap, things would have turned out very differently. The upshot is, we now know how the Collectors are able to pass through the Omega-4 relay and, with that knowledge, we will track the Collectors to their lair and," Shepard grinned ferociously, "We'll show them why you don't mess with our people."

As Shepard closed the comm channel and stepped to the deck, another roar seemed to shake the very bulkheads and a realisation dawned on me – nominally at least, this was still a Cerberus operation but I now saw the complete and unwavering loyalty and, more importantly _trust_ the crew placed in Shepard.

"That was very well said, Ma'am," I complimented her.

The Commander shrugged, the pauldrons of her hardsuit grinding slightly as she moved. "I've heard so many speeches over the years that _something_ had to sink in." She lowered her voice, "How are you holding up?"

I shook my head, "Don't worry about me. _You're_ the one constantly risking your life out here."

Shepard shrugged again, and frowned as once more the pieces of her armour ground against each other. "That ain't right. Talk to me, Kelly. It's my turn to headshrink _you."_

"I...was terrified something would happen to you, Commander. And not just you, to _everybody_. If Joker and EDI hadn't gotten us out of there...and those poor people, all those dead colonists in the ship." I swallowed past the lump forming in my throat. "I'm sorry, you have too much to concern yourself with already without _me_ adding to it."

Again Shepard laid her hands on my shoulders and looked into my eyes. "You're on my crew, Kel. I'm here for you any time you need to talk."

Oh but I wanted so much more than just to talk. I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. Shepard stepped back from me, once more adopting her professional facade. "I'll see you in a bit. I need to shower and pull maintenance on my suit." She sighed tiredly. "A girl's work is never done."

Æ

"Hard to believe the Collectors were once Protheans," Hawthorne observed as he placed his tray on the table in the mess. Goldstein and I nodded but my mind was more focused on Shepard's speech and the crew's rousing response to it.

I recalled what Samara had said earlier, that the crew might well pledge their allegiance to Shepard even if she turned her back on the Illusive Man. I wondered what he thought about it all; he received regular updates and reports from Miranda and even if she chose to gloss over or omit certain facts, there was the undeniable evidence of Shepard's popularity and sway, courtesy of the ship-wide monitoring devices. Recently, Shepard had taken the time to assist her ground team with a range of personal issues and I was certain the crew as a whole would back her come what may.

Goldstein paused to answer Hawthorne, a forkful of steamed chicken and rice held half-way between her tray and her mouth. "I always pictured the Protheans as being, I don't know, _regal _not giant bugs. I swear to God," Goldstein paused and looked at each of us earnestly, "If any of us are in danger of being taken by the Collectors, I want somebody to shoot me."

Hawthorne raised his water glass, "I'll drink to that."

I shook my head, "The Commander would never let something like that happen."

"I'm not saying she'd stand back and _let _it happen but..." Goldstein trailed off and pushed her tray away. "The Reapers turned a race of sentient beings into...things!"

Perhaps seeing Goldstein's discomfort, Hawthorne changed subjects, "Hell of a speech Shepard made."

"Aye," Kenneth put in as he and Gabby entered the room, "Made me feel all warm and tingly, so it did."

I smiled as Gabby shot back at her colleague, "Kenneth, it's bad enough you keep ogling Tali, let alone the Commander!"

Kenneth's face assumed a hurt expression, "That's not what I meant and you know it! I was simply alluding to the fact that Shepard possesses a mighty fine-"

"Ass?" Gabby interjected.

Hawthorne's head tipped back as he laughed. I felt my spirits lift a little at this bantering.

Hands on hips, Kenneth replied, "Look at you all, mocking a fine _fine_ woman! What I was _trying _to say is I think she has a very nice voice. Here _I _am complimenting her on her fine public speaking abilities and you," Kenneth pointed to Gabby, "Are _degrading_ her as a human being by _objectifying_ her as a sex object!"

All present in the mess gaped at Kenneth and experienced varying degrees of shock. After a moment, he dropped his punchline, adding, "It _is_ a mighty fine ass, though."

**Author's Note:** I considered putting in description of events inside the Collector vessel but decided against it because we all know what happens and I wanted to focus on the reaction to it.


	14. Cutting to The Chase

**14. Cutting to the Chase**

_Just when you think that you're warm, you're getting colder  
Just when you think that you're fine, soon the unspeakable scene will unfold_

Birds of Tokyo, _The Unspeakable Scene_

"Physical installation of the IFF is complete, Shepard. However we must properly integrate it into _Normandy's_ systems. I recommend taking the shuttle to access your next destination."

EDI's statement drew no undue reaction from the CO beyond her ordering Miranda to assemble the team in the shuttle bay. Though I didn't say anything, the presence of technology acquired from the wreckage of a thirty-seven _million _year old Reaper worried me. Everyone in Cerberus was aware of Reaper indoctrination and if further proof of its insidious nature were needed, we only had to read the reports from the shore party. Fragments of logfiles and the video diary entries of the science personnel stationed on the Reaper painted a horrific image.

Within a period of weeks, simply remaining in close proximity to the wreck broke the minds of the poor souls stationed there. Then there were the husks, the grim physical remains of the staff. Now a piece of that Reaper tech was aboard the ship. 'Just' an identify friend or foe code, enabling the _Normandy_ to pass through the Omega-4 relay unharmed but...Lying in my bunk, unable to sleep, I wondered what it would feel like, falling further and further under Reaper control. Would a person even _know _something was wrong or just accept it? Shepard's highly-classified debrief following the attack on the Citadel revealed that Saren believed himself and Sovereign to be 'partners' and that, if organics submitted to the Reapers, proved their worth, they would be spared.

Unsurprising that the Alliance and Council would rather suppress the truth, if they chose to believe it at all.

As she walked towards the elevator, I wished Shepard luck. She turned briefly towards me and saluted jauntily, that wry smile on her face, the one that seemed to say 'everything's just fine.' Even as I smiled in reply, I felt a shiver down my spine.

Æ

The return to awareness was a gradual thing; I felt as though I was in some deep, lightness abyss, slowly rising to the surface – whether I wanted to or not. I became aware of sounds but they were far away and unimportant. At the same time, a calm, yet insistent voice spoke to me from inside my own subconscious. _Something has happened, Kelly. You need to wake up. You need to remember._ Instinctively, I shied away from the voice, tried to block it out. I didn't want to face it...whatever _it_ was.

_Kelly_ – Shut up.

_You have to_ – I said shut up.

My nagging subconscious tried a different approach – I never realised how insistent and _annoying_ it could be. When the voice spoke again, it wasn't the usual internal dialogue a person has with oneself. It was Shepard. _Open your eyes, soldier! You think this is a joke?_

Even as I attempted to formulate a reply, a scream ripped across the veil of numbing blackness, sundering it. The scream carried no words; it was more like all the pain and hurt in the galaxy given voice. The scream rose higher, building to a crescendo before falling abruptly silent. My eyes opened, revealing a sight my forebrain had a hard time comprehending. Immediately before me was a dull orange glass-like structure, a window of some kind. I swallowed; my mouth and throat felt arid and looked around. Some kind of...tube?

_Kelly_, Shepard again. _Try to stay calm._

I pressed the palm of my right hand against the inside surface of the glass and it was cool against my skin. "Hello?" I called out and felt immediately stupid for doing so. I balled my hand into a fist and pounded on the glass, feeling my composure slip with every hit. I took a deep breath, yelled, "_Somebody help!"_ Nothing except the echoes of my own voice, mocking me. Panic set in, a combination of awakening somewhere unknown yet obviously extremely unsafe and growing claustrophobia. The container I stood in possessed the dimensions of a coffin.

Beyond the confines of my cell, I saw pipes and tubes of varying diameters overhead, running the length of the room until they disappeared into the gloom further out.

Of their own accord, my hands continued to pound on the glass, fingers scrabbling for purchase, searching for some hidden seam they could pry open. Even as my hands pounded and scraped, I began to recall the circumstances that had led to this point.

_A Collector vessel, the same one responsible for the destruction of the SR-1 warping into real-space above the Normandy._

_EDI calmly telling the crew the ship has been boarded and to take up arms._

_Joker limping past, face ashen and grim."Shit, shit, shit!" Indeed._

_Hadley and Matthews beside me, assault rifles ablaze, attempting to repel the insectile aliens._

_Hard, chitinous talons gripping my legs, pulling me into the open elevator shaft. Blood on the cold deck. Mine. Screams. Mine._

_Blackness._

I came back to myself seconds later, or perhaps days. I slumped back against the inside of the tube, utterly spent. Perhaps drawn to the commotion I was making, a Collector appeared outside my prison, quartet of glowing yellow eyes peering in. I felt my eyes well up and before the sobs could take me, I slammed myself against the glass, pressed my face against it and eyeballed the thing outside. Channelling Jack, I heard myself say, "Fuck you."

The alien's head cocked to one side as it contemplated me. Then its head exploded. I recoiled, pressing myself back against the tube as outside, the Collector's body fell to its knees as though in prayer before collapsing sideways. Unwilling to see anything more, my eyes squeezed shut, tears coursing down my cheeks.

Even with my eyes shut, I was still aware of my surroundings and registered sounds and movement outside. More Collectors?

"Get them out of there! Move!" Shepard?

Eyes opened as wide as possible, I renewed my assault on the glass. Miranda's familiar dark haired form appeared before me, face twisting in effort as she fought to wrest open the tube. Even as she cracked the glass open, tendons standing out in her neck, I felt an almost-delicate stinging sensation on the back of my neck. A cloud of dark particles engulfed me. No, not now, not like this. I dug my feet in and launched myself at Miranda even as the stinging intensified, blood slicking my neck. My feet caught the lower lip of the tube and I fell forward as the rest of Shepard's team fought to wrench open other tubes.

The senior Cerberus officer wrapped an arm around my shoulders and half-carried me out, laying me gently on the uneven ground. I raised a shaking hand to my face and it came away bloody. As I stared unblinkingly at the palm of my hand, a droplet of blood fell and splashed into my eye. Above me, Miranda turned and shouted, "I need medi-gel!" I let my hand drop to my chest, breath coming in short gasps. My eyelids were so _heavy._ What would it hurt to close them for a few moments?

My head rocked to one side and I gaped at Miranda in shock. "You slapped me!" I said, feeling oddly offended.

Mordin appeared at her side, clutching packs of medi-gel. His large eyes blinked at me. "Appears you got her out just in time. Damage superficial, will make full recovery." I gasped as he applied the cold gel to my face and neck. The analgesic properties of the medi-gel removed all feelings of pain even before my mind could properly process them. I lay back on the hard ground, staring up at the pipes and tubes lining the ceiling. Once more, Miranda entered my field of vision, this time extending her right hand. I clasped it with both of mine and she pulled me to my feet.

A wave of vertigo swept over me and I stood, eyes closed, head down, struggling to breathe evenly. After a few moments, the feeling receded and I looked around. Besides Miranda still supporting me with one arm as well Mordin and Shepard I saw the rest of the ground team and the _Normandy _crew. I imagine the shell-shocked expressions on their faces was mirrored in my own. Dr Chakwas stepped forward, "Shepard...You came for us."

"Nobody gets left behind," she replied, voice filtered through her helmet.

The commander placed a hand to her helmet's comm receiver before keying her omni-tool, broadcasting the transmission. Joker. _"Commander, we've got enough systems back to make a pick-up but we'll have to land back from your location."_

"Systems?" Ken asked, "What's wrong with the ship?"

Jack smirked at the engineer, "What isn't? We had to fly through a fucking junk yard to get here. The ship's pretty banged up." Her face hardened as she added, "Made the sons of bitches pay for it though."

My shoulders slumped. We were safe for now but if the ship couldn't get us back...Shepard apparently possessed greater hopes than I did. "Mordin. I need you to escort the crew back to the _Normandy_."

The salarian nodded and keyed his omni-tool. "Joker, require landing co-ordinates." After a moment he nodded to himself began hustling the crew away from the immediate area.

I hesitated. "Commander?"

She strode towards me, eyes unblinking behind the visor. "Remember at the start of all this you told me you trust me implicitly?" I nodded. "Go with Mordin. We'll be back in time for tea and biscuits."

I couldn't help but smile at her. "I'll put the kettle on."

Æ

"Bollocks," Kenneth breathed as we came upon the SR-2. It was as though some giant had taken to her with a can opener, leaving gaping rents through which the interior was visible. I swallowed hard as I stared at the shimmering kinetic barriers, all that stood between _Normandy's _internal compartments and hard vacuum. The still-intact parts of the hull appeared to have taken heavy damage. To Mordin, Kenneth asked, "What happened?"

The salarian shrugged as he led our group to the airlock. Over his shoulder he replied, "External damage less severe than it appears. Mostly. Collectors launched attack drones, got inside cargo bay." He paused, "Destroyed them."

"I hope the Commander gives those vermin what for," Rupert muttered darkly as he lined up outside the airlock. The group was too large for us all to enter the ship at once, requiring us to linger outside. "And if they've damaged the plumbing-"

"We're all in deep shit?" Kenneth put in, eliciting nervous laughs from the crew. "Aye, the semi-solid waste has well and truly interfaced with the air recirculators!"

I could have hugged the man; knowingly or not, his 'whistling past the graveyard' humour was lifting all our spirits.

Inside, the ship was in disarray. Everything not secured to the deck or bulkheads – datapads, OSDs and the like – lay scattered across the floor. In the mess, the force of the impact had jarred the refrigerator doors open, spilling supplies. Bananas lay in a puddle of milk. Needing something to keep my mind off what had happened, I set to cleaning the mess, mopping up the spill with a dish cloth. All around me, other crewmen were similarly engaged, each doing their part to put the ship back in order. Part of my mind kept wanting to return to that confined space of death. I closed my eyes as a shudder rocked me.

I looked around as Dr Chakwas lay a gentle hand on my shoulder. "I'm going to need some counselling after this is over," I deadpanned.

Chakwas nodded. "If there's anything I can do, please let me know." I nodded and she left, heading for the medbay.

Ken and Gabby stood to one side, eyeing a long tear in the bulkheads with undisguised fear. "EDI," Gabby began, "How long can you maintain the kinetic barriers?"

After a moment the AI answered, "Providing the mass effect core sustains no damage, I can maintain the barriers indefinitely."

Kenneth and Gabby looked from the torn bulkheads to each other and back. "If anybody wants us, we'll be fretting over the drive core," Kenneth declared as the pair departed.

Perhaps wanting to keep the crew informed of the ground team's progress, Joker kept the squad frequencies open and patched the broadcasts through the _Normandy's_ public address system. From what I could tell, Shepard had led a small squad into the heart of the Collector base, leaving the rest to mount a rear-guard action, hoping to hold the enemy off for as long as possible.

Despite the dire situation, I found myself smiling at Grunt's enthusiastic – and repeated – breaches of comm discipline. _"Come on! You want some of this? Yeah, take it!...I AM KROGAN!"_

Over the din of gunfire, Jacob barked across the frequency, _"Grunt! Shut up and focus, damn it!"_

"Sounds like somebody's enjoying himself a little _too _much," Hadley observed as he passed through the mess, heading back to the CIC. I nodded and did my best to keep myself busy. With Rupert's help, I'd gotten the mess as squared away as possible – damaged bulkheads would require weeks if not months in dock to repair. My mind kept returning to those last few moments in the tube when the swarm of nano-machines had descended upon me and began to render me down into organic paste. If Shepard and Miranda hadn't arrived...another shudder wracked me.

Rupert looked at me, kindness and compassion in his face. "Miz Chambers?"

I rubbed my eyes tiredly; coming down from the adrenaline kick of a near-death experience left me feeling exhausted and irritable. All I wanted to do was sleep but I kept myself going, unwilling to abandon the crew now. "I'm all right," I told him. "Thanks." He nodded and returned to work. I wanted this to be over.

Æ

"You _blackmailed _the Illusive Man?" Miranda gasped when Shepard told her what had transpired between herself and the Cerberus boss. The strain of recent events – the destruction of the Collector base and openly defying the Illusive Man – was visible in Miranda's face; dark rings circled bloodshot eyes and her sweat-dampened hair was matted with alien grime from the base.

Shepard too looked more than a little worse for wear but found the energy to crack a wry smile. "Blackmail is such an ugly word, Miranda. I merely pointed out to the Illusive Man that, if certain classified files in my possession were made public, God forbid, it could make his position extremely uncomfortable."

Miranda's lips twitched in a tired smile. "So in other words, you blackmailed him."

Shepard nodded. "I blackmailed him."

The former Cerberus officer leaned against the mess table and sighed. "He won't let this slide, Shepard. He'll come after you." She paused a moment and when she spoke again, her tone was introspective. "He'll come after _all _of us."

"He's welcome to try, Miranda but you and I both know the Reapers are a far greater threat than the machinations of one man. For now, he needs us to carry the fight to the Reapers and we need him to provide intel and funding." Shepard sat at the table and tapped her fingertips together. "Once we've dealt with the Reapers, the Illusive Man is welcome to take his place in line along with all the other people I've managed to piss off since I've been back."

I resisted a near-overwhelming urge to rest my head on my arms and sleep sitting at the mess table; instead I forced myself to my feet and voiced the question on everybody's lips since we returned to the Terminus Systems. "What do we do now?"

Maintaining the finger-tapping Shepard outlined her ideas. "We fix the ship _and_ we're painting over the Cerberus logos. Objections, Miranda?" Miranda shook her head. Shepard went on, "The Alliance and Council still maintain I'm working with terrorists so we can't go to them. Technically, we're still on speaking terms with the Illusive Man but I'd rather avoid any more contact with Cerberus than is absolutely necessary. That said, our only viable option is Omega."

"Wonderful," Miranda drawled tiredly.

Shepard smirked in reply. "Isn't it just? I'm sure a busy pirate queen like Aria has any number of odd jobs she wants taken care of in exchange for access to repair facilities. After that?" Shepard shrugged. "Haven't thought that far ahead."

I straightened my posture and saluted the Hero of the Citadel. "I'm with you, Commander. No matter what."

_I'll always been with you._

**Final words: **I was considering an epilogue of some kind but nothing was really coming together so until and unless something does, this is the end. Big thanks go out to all those who've read and reviewed and endured the misspellings that fell through the cracks...heh, through the cracks. :)

Writing this (the actual story not this) has been some of the best fun I've had with the Mass Effect universe and I thank you all for coming along for the ride. Coming attractions...something inspired by Dragon Age II. Just as soon as the Type 2 error is sorted out.


End file.
